


the defining moment

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, M/M, Slow Burn, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-28 03:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15039356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: *NOTE* as of 19/08/18 this fic is discontinued and will not be updated again *NOTE*Albus thought he knew Ivory Falls Country Club like the back of his hand. He'd spent his summer vacation there every year since he was old enough to have a passport; he had memorised the depth of the pool, the menus for the restaurant and even the names of every staff member he came across. You can imagine his surprise when, as the Potter family return for their annual stay, he meets a blond-haired summer worker called Scorpius who promises to turn his summer upside down.or the one where albus and scorpius fall in love over summer.(think dirty dancing and high school musical without the songs.)





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hi gang!! welcome to my summer scorbus fic. just a few notes before you begin:
> 
> 1) there is a prologue (this part). it's 500 words and not essential, just there if you want a poetic introduction to the fic.
> 
> 2) there are links throughout to 80s music, essentially a soundtrack to the fic. if you want to listen to the music - do! again, not essential, just there to add a little dimension to it.
> 
> 3) the title is taken from a piece of work by beau taplin of the same name. taplin's work, or the themes, plays a big part to the fic in terms of characters and everything. I definitely recommend reading their work if you like poetry.
> 
> 4) this is 12 parts and will be updated once a week, maybe twice depending on my summer schedule. they'll be regular but don't count on them being consistent because, as we know, i'm a mess.

We are all born as half a person. There is an emptiness that manifests in our form as we meander through life in search of the one _thing_ which will fill our glass. Be it an object, a person or a beat; there is one experience that will complete us and leave us to feel at peace in a world of hurricanes.

For most, that thing is love.

The dainty hills and sinking bunkers which characterise the golf course at Ivory Falls Country Club epitomise a setting of romance. The water hazards gently caress the edges of the rough, dampening blades of grass with the kisses of their current. Flagpoles hang limp in the silence of the night, not a lick of breeze haunting the summer dusk. Trees whisper and frogs sing the notes of love as individuals allow the essence of July to colour their skin and warm their eyes.

July. Summer. A season for love and a season for new emotional endeavours. There is a sense of escapism to summer, an idea that one can blur the lines between their reality and fantasy by soaring the skies and landing on a sandy beach a continent or two away. For a miniscule moment their life back home is clouded and they shed a skin of stress and exhaustion.

New beginnings.

You can find a sense of belonging in bars tucked in the corners of city centres. Strangers can meddle with dalliance as they peruse the rim of a cocktail glass, the gleaming sun grazing their skin while lazily lounging by a pool. Every person you meet feels like taking a book from a library and opening a dog-eared page, delving head first into a narrative you don’t know the start of but are enthused to learn more about.

Love overbears, though. A love for vacation, a love for the momentary escapism that comes from drizzling fingertips through granules of sand. Love found in a foreign language or love found for another person. A love for love. Summer love.

The intermingling of elation and fluttering kisses characterises summer love. Every day is a honeymoon phase in a honeymoon location, clear skies juxtaposing the not-so clear skin of the teenagers who often fall heavy into the abyss of summer love. In a trope often trivialised by popular culture teenagers fall for each other among whispering inky skies and echoing waves, enticed by the sense of uncertainty and the finite expanse of time which encircle their romance. Whether falling in love over dance lessons or melodising their fling between shifts at summer work, teenagers in every scope of life seem destined to toy with summer love.

But this destiny isn’t calculated. While fate may have plucked her strings to set events into the order they needed to take, the tumultuous journey of summer love comes from miniscule margins of time and the alignment of random circumstances.

There are a pure set of coincidences which can lead two halves of a whole to unite. A silenced phone, a broken traffic light. A cancelled flight or a missed connection subdued by locking eyes over the edge of a coffee shop counter. For every rushing businessman late for his train there is a soothing stationmaster leading him to the correct platform. For every hungover university student stumbling into a store there is a playful chemist passing headache tablets to them over eruptions of giggles.

But, most importantly, for every blonde-haired ray of sunshine working a summer job in a country club there is a son of a wealthy lawyer, etching poems into a notebook, as he waits to board his flight to Ivory Falls.


	2. wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoever said the small things don't matter has clearly never seen a match start a wildfire.  
> \- beau taplin, 'wildfire'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: scorpiusmlafoy

Heathrow Airport is constantly buzzing, Albus has learned. Whether a morning flight departing over a sliver of sunrise or a night-time delay set to a backdrop of flashing lights and harmonious yawns, there are always people flocking the terminals. Thousands of discarded coffee cups and ragged newspapers outline the endless waiting areas, ghosts of the former individuals who inhabited the seats. Forgotten scarves and tablet chargers dangle helplessly to the floor, swimming between masses of people all waiting for their flight.

The four-thirty departure to California from Terminal 3 had already been delayed by twenty minutes when Albus Potter returned from the bookshop he had been perusing. It was two o’clock, prime time for flights, and the Potter family had arrived suitably early for their mid-afternoon haul to Ivory Falls, stuck among the rush hour airport traffic. There were thickets of bodies all glued together in packed waiting areas, bags invading other’s personal space as uptight businessmen battled over who would get the last charging port for their phone. Families huddled together, pillows and blankets clutched to aggravated children’s chests as their parents relayed the news of late flights to them. Albus felt as though he couldn’t breathe. So he left for a while.

With his rucksack slung over his shoulder he weaved his way through the maze of tourists to find the Duty Free area, feet dragging on the slippery floor as he trundled in to the back corner: the book corner. Albus had been to the airport enough times to memorise the layout of Duty Free. Towards the left were fragrances and toiletries – he vividly remembered walking in with Lily five years ago when she proceeded to drop a _fairly_ expensive Tom Ford scent on the floor – with the path winding around through sunglasses to clothes to alcohol. Albus didn’t care for those areas, though. Like a bee to flora he hovered immediately to the small book area, shelves haphazardly littered with random titles from all the possible genres.

Albus thought himself a poet, and so wherever he went he would always have two particular things in his bag: his journal and a book of poetry. He consumed inspiration wherever he was and knew he would be empty without a plain expanse to inscribe his feelings. Albus’ journal had a few pages remaining, stuffed to the core with rhythmic limericks or sonnets about a cute barista he saw over the counter in a coffee shop. He needed a new poetry book, however. For his sixteenth birthday a few weeks prior his parents had splurged on a first edition copy of his favourite poet’s debut collection which, despite Albus’ attempts to read slowly, he devoured in days.

So here he was now. Stood before the bookshelves hoping to spot something that would keep him entertained for the six weeks he was about to spend in a Country Club he’d been visiting since he was old enough to have a passport. Albus would be the first to admit that he adored going away on vacations or spontaneous weekend visits to Rome, but going to the same place in the same country for the entirety of his summer break began to feel more like a chore than a luxury. Albus knew that the amount of money his parents threw at Ivory Falls Country Club to retain their membership was obscene and, after all these years, could have mounted up to the price of a small island. It was no secret his parents were 'well off'; considering his mother had been a professional golfer for most of her life and his father had created a reputation of being one of the most successful lawyers in London it would be hard to think the Potter’s were anything less than financially stable.

But the burden of money ate into Albus’ soul. While his sister spent her weekends training her horse down the road and his brother traipsed off in to the city to lounge in clubs and bars over cups and expensive bottles of champagne – all paid for by their parents, _of course_ – Albus preferred to sit in their garden, pouring words rather than liquid. He’d use his allowance to buy expensive leather journals rather than technology or guilty pleasures and for that reason, within their familial social circle, Albus was an outcast.

His bag suddenly felt heavy with the weight of his summer allowance hanging on his back. As he looked at all the names printed on the spines of books before him Albus couldn’t help but wonder how much of a struggle it was for the poets to print their work. He wondered whether D.L Falls had to struggle through publisher after publisher, draining their bank to promote their work before they saw any glimmer of success. The price tag on the back of the book, twelve-ninety, seemed minute to Albus but would most likely transpire in to relief for a struggling writer begging the heavens for some sales.

The guilt was too much [sometimes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1a8QABKNo0).

(Albus went for a two fifty-nine reduced collection in the end.)

That was a while ago, though, and on the walk back to the waiting area Albus had allowed the money guilt to slide off his soul as he returned to his family. It was two o’clock, their flight delayed by twenty minutes and Albus’ throat released a whine of agitation as he sat beside James.

“Where’d you go?” James asked, dragging his eyes from his phone to look his brother up and down. James approached every situation as if it were somewhere he felt incredibly comfortable; with his legs slung up on the seats in front of him and shirt hiked up ever so slightly caused by his slouched position, James almost looked as though he lived in the waiting area. Which, Albus thought, could be an understandable assumption.

After leaving school James had made the decision to embark on a gap year. He made promises to their parents to do charity work around the world, partake in projects and go to camps in sandy countries to gather some knowledge and connections which could help him in later life. With a bag packed to the brim with band t-shirts and designer shorts he jetted of to Australia the August before, coming back only when his money had dwindled and he needed a small top up. He’d found a girlfriend Down Under and, as James explained in texts he sent to their parents rather than letters or postcards, they were very happy together. In photos of the two of them plastered over social media Albus noted they had identical ashy hair, eyes full of light and youthfulness as they posed over cliff tops or grinned as they danced in the waves of the ocean. Albus thought they seemed a perfect fit. Until they broke up and James slumbered home one April evening.

Now he was entering a law internship, helpfully provided to him through links their dad had cumulated over the years. James’ shining eyes seemed a little duller as he commuted to the internship every morning and his voice rang a little less enthusiastically, but Albus knew his brother would work his life out eventually. He always had done, after all.

“Bookshop,” Albus shrugged, jostling the small Duty Free bag he propped beside him. “Have to find something to entertain me while I sit about doing nothing all summer.”

James’ eyes rolled. “I will never understand your resentment towards this place. Basically all of our family memories were built here.”

“That’s what I don’t like,” Albus moaned, fingers tickling the crisp pages of the book as he turned to the index. “All of our memories are here. Every annual family summer holiday picture is us stood in the same suite at the same country club. It’s boring. I have a friend at school who goes to a different country every year. The family are, like, actually living.”

“It’s different though, isn’t it? Mum and dad have a loyalty to this place. They’ve been going here since mum won that LPGA major all those years ago. She won the year membership, or something, and she’s renewed it ever since.” James explained. He pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose; the rain hammering down on the runways out the window clearly didn’t faze James, shorts cut above his knees and sleeves of his t-shirt flirting with his already tan skin.

“I get it. Mum and dad are rich and talented and therefore their kids have to suffer in the shadow of that for the rest of their life.” Albus said, voice hinting at a little anger as he almost snarled out the end of his declaration.

“Yikes,” James chuckled, peering over the top of his glasses to assess his little brother. “What’s got you in such a mood? Puberty? Growing pains?”

Albus rolled his eyes, supplying a gentle shove to James’ legs. “Bore off, James. I’m sixteen, surely puberty is long gone now.”

“Still haven’t answered my question, Al.”

“I’m just fed up of the same old same old. Everything is the same every year, it’s like I’m in Groundhog Day or something. Same people there, same places, same activities. Doesn’t it bore you?” Albus asked, slumping in his seat ever so slightly.

Now James paused, one of his arms slinging around Albus’ shoulders as they melted in to each other during the silence. “Maybe, I guess? I’ve done a lot this year, so I kind of just want a relaxing break somewhere I know. Being on the other side of the planet for months can be sort of scary, sometimes.”

“James? Scared?” Albus scoffed, playfully pinching at his brother’s cheeks.

“Stop,” James murmured between small chuckles, the faux eye roll falling short of upsetting Albus. “Not scared, I guess. But being away from your family when everything falls apart is a bit difficult. While I was dealing with… you know… the breakup you guys were over here dealing with the loss of Grandpa. I guess I’m just glad to be stuck with you losers somewhere I know like the back of my hand.”

“That makes… a stupid amount of sense, actually.” Albus replied, allowing himself to cosy further into the warmth of James. He might like to live up to his status as the family outcast sometimes, slumping in the corner during social events or hardly reciprocating conversation to wealthy socialites who came to dinner at their house, but he could never dismiss the love he had for his family. For all the success and wealth pinned to the Potter family name, underneath there lay a history of pain and sadness. There had been deaths which pulled their hearts from their chests, divorces and breakups that had the capacity to shatter glass and disputes which had torn the stitches holding their family together. They’d been through a lot, the Potter family. Albus supposed that was why he could never deny the love he held for them all.

“Oh, my boys. Smile!” A voice. Then a flash. Then groans from James and Albus which filtered in to the air as their mother sauntered over to where they had been lounging. “You two look so adorable. What are you chatting about?”

“Hi, mum,” James answered first. His bunched up hands found their way to his eyes, rubbing the aftermath of the flash from his vision. “Just brother stuff. The holiday, shopping. Those sorts of things.” He explained.

“What are you doing?” Albus asked.

Ginny smiled; when Ginny Potter smiled her whole face lit up, the rising corners of her lips transcending in to a light flickering across her eyes and tilting of her head. She had always been a radiant figure, sun-kissed skin and youthful complexion always bustling with joy for anyone who came her way. Ginny hardly looked her age, no single wrinkle etching in to her skin or bags deepening under her eyes. Albus guessed it was a testimony to her life in the sports industry, how her treatment of herself and her ability to put her health beyond anything has now allowed her to bask in what seemed like an eternal youth. Even now, jumper tucked in to the front of her sweatpants, Ginny looked like a newlywed about to embark on her honeymoon rather than a mother of three jetting off to a relaxing holiday.

“Taking photos of my children,” Ginny replied. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had all three of you in the same place on the same holiday. Last year your brother wasn’t here so I’m now making up for all the photos that never happened.”

“You look lovely, mum.” Albus smiled.

Ginny tilted her head the other way, eyes filling with love mixed with confusion. “Thank you, my love. What makes you say that?”

Albus shrugged, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know. You just look really nice.” He explained, hand smoothing back over the book he had bought.

“Is that what you went off to buy?” Ginny’s delicate fingers found their way to the book, gently brushing over the embossed title before sweeping down the spine.

Albus nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never heard of this person before, thought it’d be nice to read something out of my comfort zone,” he explained, subconsciously tightening his grip on the book. “Where’s dad and Lils?”

“I think she broke her headphones and convinced him to go and get her some new ones. You know what your dad is like, a little soft touch when it comes to you kids.” Ginny laughed, allowing her hand to fall from the book and hold Albus’ knee instead. Her touch radiated familiarity, grazing Albus’ skin with love and comfort even if he didn’t need it.

“That’s rich coming from you, mum,” James intercepted, a teasing essence laced in his voice. “He may be a soft touch, but you’re the one who took Lily to _Edinburgh_ just so she could see her favourite band. You’re both as soft as each other.”

“What can I say? I do love my children, don’t I?” Ginny laughed.

“And they love you, too.” Albus finished, laying his hand atop of his mother’s. He looked up to the virtual information screen of their terminal; four o’clock with priority boarding coming up soon. The three of them instinctively reached for their bags, eyes flitting about the space to ensure their never-ending bulk of luggage was still in their sight. Being a family of five came with its consequences, one being the extensive amount of luggage they took everywhere.

Almost like following a cue on their script Lily and Harry traipsed back to the waiting area just as the call for priority boarding sounded, a small bag swinging from Lily’s satisfied fingertips. A picture of her mother and both grandmothers, Lily bounced on the balls of her feet wherever she went, exuberating warmth from the way she smiled down to the way sat with her legs crossed and arms wide open. She was like a cherub, Albus thought, a bewitching smile lulling anyone into getting her whatever she wanted. There was determination of their mother rooted deep in her veins but the ambition of their father foregrounding Lily when she entered a room. Though she beamed individuality and flair in every move she made, there was a familial joy and soothing nature which would always bring Lily back to earth, fitting perfectly into their Potter family.

“Headphones?” James asked.

Lily grinned. “Of course,” she replied, peeling the bag open to allow her siblings a look inside. “I didn’t even break mine, just forgot to pack them and knew I wouldn’t be able to survive the holiday.”

“You’re evil, Lily Luna.” Albus teased.

“You know it, Al.”

“Children,” Harry, amongst complaints from James that _dad I’m nineteen I’m an adult now_ , summoned. He held a bag in each hand, one slung over his shoulders as he beckoned the gaggle of Potters to board the plane. “Passports and boarding passes, yes? Lils I’ve got your bag and your mum has your boarding pass. You hop on first and the boys will take the rear.”

Albus decided to ignore the snicker from James as they handed over their boarding pass, gently patting his brothers head as they shuffled down the tunnel. It still felt weird to Albus turning left on the plane; falling back into the feathery seats and smiling at the hostesses as they presented him fine juices and sparkling water would never be a natural experience or something to be expected, so Albus made sure to appreciate every second he spent on flights like this.

The five of them filled out the entire width of a first class row; Albus always took one of the window seats, James choosing the one adjacent to his brother and Lily the other window seat, leaving their parents to fill in the ones between. Albus knew their ginger and brunette blended hair must look extraordinarily out of place sometimes and he could only assume what strangers would have thought when the Weasley family went on holiday together. A smile tickled his lips as he thought of the fire-haired pack stumbling through airports or lounging on beaches and found that the flicker of happiness melted away the anxiety bubbling in his stomach about the flight.

Albus couldn’t tell you how many flights he had been on in his life or, even, how far he’d flown, but nothing could ever shift the anxiety he felt before every flight. There was just _something_ in his mind which would always overthink the possibility of the take-off and landing. A simple burst of turbulence could send his mind in to overdrive or a single ding of the overhead systems would spike his heart rate; Albus much preferred sleeping on flights or drowning himself in music and films to burn out the sights and sounds of the uncontrollable circumstance he had put himself in.

“You okay, little brother?” James asked, a scrunched up napkin flying from James’ seat to plummet in to Albus’ cheek.

“Yeah, just… panicked. As always. You know I’m not good with flying.” Albus assured, tossing the napkin back in James’ direction.

“That’s why I asked. You’re all good, Al. Just plug in your questionable music and before you know it we’ll be in lovely, lovely California.” James joked, shooting a wink across their seats.

“Hey,” Albus retorted, yielding a water bottle as his next weapon of choice. “My music is fantastic, thank you very much. The Fray are lyrical geniuses and I won’t accept slander on their part.”

“Try the 80s, little brother. There you’ll find a lyrical genius and his name is Andy Bell.” James declared, reclining his seat as he pulled a cup of beer to his lips. Though James wouldn’t be able to drink at the country club he clearly had intentions to exploit his age privileges for the next few hours.

“Is that the lead singer of that band you like? Eraser or something?”

“ _Or something?_ You disgust me, Albus Severus Potter,” James sighed. “Era _sure_. Not Eraser. You’re a numpty. Just… do me a favour and listen to [Ship of Fools](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekc_aR5LyAk). Your mind will be blown.”

Albus simply nodded, sticking his tongue out at his brother as he wound up the screen separating their seats. His fingers smoothed over the tartan pattern of the airline supplied blanket; the edges were scalloped, material smooth and almost silky over his skin as he pulled it up to his lap. Outside the window the plane had begun gliding over the runway, the flatness and emptiness of Heathrow Airport sailing past as they distanced from the terminals further and further. Albus exhaled, a deep and rib-shattering release of breath as he prepared himself for the take-off.

Albus’ bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he pulled his headphones over his ears. He flicked his fingers through the playlists he’d spent months perfecting before tapping to the search key. Albus shakily typed out ‘ _ship of fools erasure’_ as the plane accelerated, eyes closing as the dulcet tones drifted into his ears.

 

Halfway through the flight a knock on the screen dividing his and James’ seats interrupted Albus’ slumber. With agitated movements he drew down the screen, glaring through sleepy eyes at his brother grinning back at him.

“What?" Albus muttered. He squinted as James shoved his phone in Albus’ face, fingertip pointing at a small section of his Spotify screen. “What am I looking at?”

“Your Spotify listening history,” James started, face twisting into a smug expression. “Andy Bell is a lyrical genius isn’t he?”

Albus groaned. “You’re fucking annoying.”

James’ laughter ricocheted through the plane as Albus drew up the screen again. He decided to ignore the fact he’d just downloaded an entire playlist of Erasure’s music – what James didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

 

There were few things in the world that Albus would say he hated, but American security would definitely top the list. He disliked wasps and flying and other casual things, however there would always be something about airport security across the pond that sent his hatred levels soaring. Perhaps, Albus thought, it was the way the staff all lazily sat with a gun to their side, eyes gliding up and down every tourist who passed through as though they were a criminal in disguise.

At seven in the evening, the Californian heat beating down despite the darkening sky, Albus could think of many places he would prefer to be than a customs queue. He was drained. The flight had taken an extreme toll on him following burst after burst of intense turbulence on their descent and, accompanied with the stress of his luggage being one of the last to circulate around the carousel, Albus felt ready to sleep his worries away.

To his right Albus could hear notes of Lily’s pop music vibrating a little, the gentle tapping of her right foot falling perfectly to the beat which filtered quietly in to the air. James had his sunglasses perched in his hair, eyelids drooping ever so slightly as they waited for the queue to dissipate. Albus counted his lucky stars that the country club only sat a mere twenty minute drive from the airport, wishing the time closer that he would be able to curl up in a silk blanket and dream the night away.

At long last the queue shrunk and their bundle of bodies were summoned to a security desk. Albus dared a look at the guard behind the desk; a very burly and muscled man looked back, hairline receding intensely back with small eyes peering at them as they stopped by the fingerprint scanners. The worker stared Harry dead in the eye, daring him to make a move or suggest that he had anything to hide under his cool exterior. The moment Harry handed the passports over the man flicked aggressively to their photo pages, dragging his agitated eyes over every inch of Harry’s face.

“Where’s your scar from?” He asked, voice deep with the rhythms of a rich American accent.

Harry’s eyebrows tugged together, fingertips instinctively caressing the fading lightning-shaped scar etched on his forehead. “Car crash.” Came his simple reply.

Albus recalled the first time his father had explained the cause of the famous scar, the shape of which had entertained the children when they were younger. Their stubby fingertips used to grapple eagerly at the red mark, entertained by the identifiable shape which had once shone so brightly on his face. It came from when he was very young, they had been told, a tragic car crash which had taken the life of his parents. Harry hadn’t known the details until he was much older; a drunk driver had skipped a red light and smashed directly in to the side of Harry’s parents car, draining the life from them immediately and leaving their baby in intensive car. Harry had been sixteen when someone finally told him the whole truth and, he had told his children, it was from that moment he had wanted to pursue law. If he had to study for endless years to ensure no other careless, rule-breaking driver caused another the pain Harry had lived for his entire life, then he would. Albus thought it to be the most inspiring story he had heard in his whole sixteen years of existence.

The worker paused, carelessly flipping through the rest of their passports before beckoning them through. Harry curtly nodded, snatching at the passports as he ushered his family through the doors towards the exit.

“He was… pleasant.” It was, of course, James who broke the intense silence. Before his utterance he only sound in the air had been the scratching of their suitcase wheels dragging along the concrete.

“Typical American, really.” Ginny replied; her free hand had found its way to Harry’s shoulder, rubbing soothing circles between the blades as they slumbered to the car waiting for them. Because, of course, they had a car to usher them to the country club.

Harry greeted the driver with an incredibly warm hug, patting his back and shaking his shoulders in an aggressive yet friendly style. There were utters of “it’s wonderful to see you again” and “hope everything is well” exchanged over the task of lifting their luggage in to the back of the car, only the streetlights and twinkling stars to cast helpful reflections on the road.

Albus sifted in to the car, claiming his window seat. His head lolled to lean against the glass, letting the coolness filter through his already overheating body. James sat opposite, as always, his smile a reassuring force to urge Albus through the remaining leg of their journey. Though there were five seats in the back, arranged in a three section with a two opposite, Harry took a space in the front, leaving Ginny and Lily to fill in beside the boys. Albus draped an arm around Lily, nestling an exhale in to her hair as she already dozed in to his side. Her bubbling breaths sounded a testimony to her exhaustion, fingertips loosely linking with Albus’ free hand as she slumped weakly in her sleep.

“Feels like home already.” James murmured, fists rubbing in to his eyes over a gentle scolding from his mother.

“Don’t rub your eyes, baby. You know it irritates them more.” Ginny soothed, tossing a mildly disapproving look in his direction.

“I know,” James whispered, his eyes casting to his sister to ensure he didn’t wake her. “You brought my medication, yeah?”

“Of course, love,” Ginny smiled. “I’ll unpack it before we go to sleep.”

“We don’t have to go to dinner this evening, right?” Albus asked, the end of his sentence filtering in to silence as he yawned. The moon had brightened over the course of time the Potter’s had landed as the time now drew closer to eight. His idea of a perfect evening would be getting to the club, sauntering to his room and dropping off to sleep without any obnoxious-rich-people encounters, as he’d begun to call them over the years.

Ginny shook her head, fingertips gently carding through Lily’s hair as though it were water. “No. I think the little one needs her bed and we all could do with recharging. It’s such a long flight here. Oh how I wish magic were real and we could just teleport out here.”

“That’d be the dream.” James chuckled.

The three of them fell into a comfortable silence, occasionally looking to Lily as the car winded through California’s evening traffic. It was as the car approached Ivory Falls Country Club that Albus’ sense of nostalgia and familiarity returned. As the car straightened on the final stretch the lights vaguely outlined the amenities of the club. To the left the green of the eighteenth hole stood proud on top of the hill, flag limp in the motionless evening. Glimmers of light shivered over the water hazard surrounding the green, the current almost perfectly still among the warm air enveloping the property. The right suggested the swimming area, changing rooms and lifeguard tower obstructing the view to the egg-shaped pool and hot tubs dotted around the exterior. Pool lights cast a haunting light on to the water above, the expanse empty as the final holiday-makers had cleared the area hours before. Only the staff remained, sifting nets around and around to collect leaves and bugs tainting the clarity.

The main building had been built to mimic the structure of the White House, Albus had learned. Stood by the bar ordering a glass of water a few years ago a drunken businessman had described the architecture of the place to Albus, words slurring as he droned on and on columns and staircases. A small fountain stood in the middle of the round-a-bout leading cars to the entrance, flora decorating the gardens like a beautiful carpet would in a ballroom. Lanterns hung from the columns, casting floral shadows on to the white brick floors leading to the red-carpeted reception.

“Come on, then,” Ginny murmured as their car halted to a stop. As Albus’ arm withdrew from Lily she rose from her light sleep, eyes heavy and desperate as she sat up. “Not long until you can actually sleep. Your body thinks it’s four in the morning. You’re doing well, love.”

Lily’s head nodded lightly as she shuffled out the car, rucksack hanging weakly on her shoulders. By the time all five of them had stepped on the warm white bricks workers had already piled their suitcases on to a trolley, pushing it merrily away to their guest suite. Albus deliberately bumped in to James as they ascended the steps to the reception, exhaling gladly as the air conditioning washed over his body.

From the dining room to his left Albus could hear the echoing tones of [80s music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPudE8nDog0) drifting through the archway, the dimmed lights indicative of the changing mood from the once formal dinner to the now casual evening at the bar.

“Potter,” a deep voice interrupted Albus’ assessment of the building. A crisp navy suit rested flat over the man’s chest, cufflinks shining like diamonds under the gentle light of the reception area. He offered a harsh handshake to Harry, stiffened grasp lasting an uncomfortably long time. “So good to see you again.”

“Nott,” Harry replied, lips drawn into a thin line as he vaguely reciprocated the shake. “The same for you. How long have you been here?”

Theodore Nott swatted his arm aimlessly in the air. “A few days,” he started. “How is the case going?”

The atmosphere sweltering in the air shifted as if all the moisture which had lingered suddenly disappeared. Harry’s expression temporarily faltered, hands brushing over his chest as he soon recovered. “I’m not at liberty to discuss details at the moment, Nott. You should know that, being a… lawyer yourself.”

Albus shifted on his feet from where he stood. He dared a glance to his mother who stood with her head tilted, a flicker of confusion cutting across her stern expression. Ginny’s head shook as she crossed the space to the reception desk, voice quiet as she passed over paperwork and greeted the worker with a bright, forced smile.

“Of course,” Theodore Nott responded, a sinister grin painting his face as he turned to look at the three children instead. “Aren’t they grown, now? You only had two last time, right?”

Harry swallowed thickly as he retreated to his offspring, fingers tangling in Lily’s hair. She helplessly slumped against him, exhaustion simmering all over her as she clutched to her father. Harry lifted her eventually, arms pulling her close to his chest as he supported her while she slept. He instinctively began to bounce as though he were lulling a baby to sleep and not just carrying his fifteen year old daughter. “Indeed. James, my eldest, was on a gap year in Australia.”

Nott appeared far from impressed. “Australia? What were you doing out there?”

James dragged his eyebrows together; all the Potter’s knew the reality of James’ gap year and how the days consisted of lustful days on the beach with his long-gone girlfriend and evenings spent lurking the bars and the clubs lining the bustling streets. The look on Nott’s face almost seemed knowing, as though he’d managed to read James’ mind and withdraw the truth from his eyes. “I was just making connections.”

“Did you not get in to university?” Nott began to pull on his line, feeding the bait even more prominently to James. He wanted him to bite, to retort in a manner which wouldn’t line up with the expectation of the Potter family.

“I didn’t want to go,” James answered. “You don’t need a degree to be successful in life.”

“Of course… which is why you ended up in Australia making connections,” Nott repeated. “I can’t imagine your father being impressed with that. His firstborn not following in his footsteps… graduating from a top university with a first in law to have your son take a gap year.”

Harry stepped before James with predatory incline, paternal instincts blossoming in the gaze he aimed at Nott. “Intelligence isn’t measured by university success, Nott. As long as my children are happy and doing what they want, I don’t mind where they are. Their health and wellbeing is better than a shabby degree from a university, in my opinion.”

“Sure,” Theodore replied, gaze now shifting to Albus. “And the middle one?”

“Just done his GCSEs,” Harry answered for his son. “Going to study his A-Levels in September with the intention of studying English at university.”

“English.” Nott repeated, clearly unconvinced by the path.

“Yes,” Albus finally intercepted, a dose of confidence rising within him. “I want to be a writer. A poet, if we're being exact.”

“Oh?” Theodore nodded. “We all know how much opportunity there is in the writing field.”

Albus shrunk again, confidence shattered by the stab from Nott’s last comment. “We’ll be leaving now.” Harry snapped, free arm wrapping around Albus’ shoulder as they brushed past Nott towards the elevator at the rear of the room.

For as long as Albus could remember they had been staying in the largest guest suite in the club whenever they came here. Taking up the entirety of the first floor, the guest suite boasted five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a kitchen and a sitting room, complete with a balcony overlooking the exquisite golf course. Ivory Falls hosted two of the largest tournaments of the golfing season, including the LPGA Major which Ginny had won all those years ago before turning to coaching and journalism. The grounds were maintained to perfection year round, given the clubs desire to present itself as worthy of hosting such established events; from the balcony the perfectly trimmed greens and appropriately raked bunkers looked like a work of art, never a strand of grass out of place as players perused their clubs every round they played.

“It’s good to be back.” Ginny exhaled as she opened the door to the suite, the trolley of their bags welcoming them in the lounge along with baskets of treats for the whole family. Harry turned immediately as he walked to one of the bedrooms where Lily was to rest, the other three swarming to the table in the centre. Dinner menus and reservations decorated a neatly presented itinerary with lists of events and themed nights taking place in the dining room piling underneath. In baskets set out on the coffee table beamed sweet treats, the finest American confectionary and the kitchen’s renowned brownies appealing to Albus’ naked eye. Boxes of personalised golf balls set Ginny’s basket apart from the rest of the families, with Lily’s noticeably holding a pink theme while the boys clearly had the pick of the remaining three.

The suite had hardly changed from Albus’ memory; the kitchen island still had the ceramic bowl of fruit in the centre, marble countertop spotless from the inevitable clean it had received earlier in the day. The fridge retained the characteristic hum it had sounded for years prior, not a single lampshade out of place or chair not perfectly tucked into the dining table. The only difference Albus noticed appeared to be the television hanging above a luxurious fireplace; the club had obviously splurged on a newer model, the slick flat-screen now covering the majority of the wall. The works of art which had previously framed the television hung elsewhere, the dominating presence of the new technology drowning out any antique aspects in the room.

“Right. Head to bed, you two. Are you still going to share a room?” Ginny asked, pushing their suitcases in front of the two boys.

“Yes.” Both James and Albus responded without a pause, not even glancing at each other as they replied to their mother’s question. They eagerly grabbed the handles of their suitcases, flocking down the hallway to the twin bedroom they had shared since coming here when Albus had been four and James seven.

An arched window opened the room to the grounds of the country club, glimpses of the pool sifting in to sight while the golf course and fields dominated their view. The beds were huge, as always, soft pillows fluffed to within an inch of their life and covers drawn back as though they were begging for the boys to jump in them immediately. The room sized bigger than both of their rooms back home combined, the empty space filled with carpets, cabinets and a walk in wardrobe. Albus assumed the size of this room in itself would be larger than an average hotel room; the thought sickened him slightly as he set his suitcase at the foot of his bed, glancing around at the white décor which now seemed like a demeaning sight.

“Feels like I never left.” James sighed as he dove head first on to his bed. He melted immediately in to the silk covers, noises of delight oozing out his mouth as he settled in to the mattress.

“Mental to think the last time I was here I was alone.” Albus murmured, crossing his legs as he sat on his bed. The mattress underneath him felt as soft as a cloud, silk sheets and lavender scent reminding him more of a spa than a bedroom.

James nodded. “I know. Honestly, Al. I hated not being here with you guys. It didn’t feel right. Like, in my bones,” he started. “I know you think this shit is repetitive and boring, but it’s part of our life now. It’s one of the only points in the year where we’re all together. When dad isn’t out of town on business or mum isn’t somewhere else in the states commentating a golf tournament.”

“Is this a convoluted way of you saying you missed me?” Albus teased.

“Of course,” James chuckled, beaming over at Albus from where he lay on his bed. “You’re my best friend, Al. You know that, right?”

“Woah,” Albus dragged out. “What’s got you so sentimental? Swear you only had one beer on the flight here.”

“Shove off, you idiot. I’m being serious,” James groaned, bones popping as he sat up to directly face Albus. “You’re my best friend. I know you’re my brother, but you’re more than that.”

“You’re my best friend, too,” Albus replied. “I just don’t understand why you’re telling me this now, is all.”

“I just… I don’t know. Realised how much I love being here with you guys and how shitty the last year has been for me. I know it was all worth the experience and everything but, like, it doesn’t even matter after how it ended. I felt so lonely, you know? Coming back home felt weird because I felt like I disappointed everyone. Well, dad mostly.” James muttered.

“You know you didn’t disappoint him. You just heard what he said to that Nott guy in reception.” Albus said.

“He was just saying that to save face, Al. It’s obvious he wishes I’d gone to university. Why do you think he is so desperate to get me to do that internship? Like, when have I ever expressed interest in law? Never. It’s clear why he got me in to it.” James murmured.

Albus drew his eyebrows together. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at here.”

“Neither do I,” James sighed. “Just that, like… last year was tough. When you’re feeling all these negative things it’s hard. You of all people should know that. Coming home didn’t feel like coming home. It felt like I was invading on something. Like I was the elephant in the room.”

“How are you this drunk when you had one beer?” Albus posed, shaking his head.

“I’m not drunk!” James whined. “Let me be sentimental for a moment, yeah?”

Albus smirked; his fingers grasped one of his pillows, tips dancing over the lace detailing around the edge before he tossed it over at James. “I’m not used to you being sentimental. Forgive me if I think you’re intoxicated.”

James accompanied an eye roll with a forceful throw of the pillow to Albus’ face. As Albus caught the pillow and smoothed it back at the head of the bed he lay himself down, staring up to the plain abyss of the ceiling. “My point is that I missed this place. It’s a second home. Coming here [time after time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdQY7BusJNU) never feels weird.”

“Second home?” Albus asked, scrunching his face up at the phrase. “I guess. Honestly, as much as I like the familiarity I want something exciting to happen.”

“Like what?”

Albus shrugged. “I don’t know… _Something_.”

“Falling in love?”

Albus scoffed, shaking his head. “That would never happen.”

“Not with that attitude.”

“Weren’t you the one who said love is shitty about four months ago?” Albus retorted, eyes shutting as he gladly pulled the covers up to his chest.

He heard James’ laughter from the other side of the room, rising to the air and spilling in to the room like puddles of hot air. “Because it is. Just don’t, like, fall in love with someone who doesn’t have the same intentions as you.”

“You’re saying this as if you’re a thirty year old divorcee and not a nineteen year old boy.” Albus soothed, rolling to his side to catch eyes with his brother.

James smiled through the growing darkness; the only light glowing in the room came from under the door, illuminating a small area and casting weak shadows elsewhere. Their faces coloured dark, though, no moonlight shimmering through their closed curtains during this particularly cloudy night.

“Breakups can age a person.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

A moment of silence passed between them. “Enough of this self-deprecation, Al. I hope you fall in love this summer just because of that statement.”

“You hope I fall in love with an American who I’ll never see again the minute we jet back home the end of summer? Thanks, bro. Glad you want me to be happy.” Albus muttered.

“Fuck me,” James groaned. “You’re annoying when you’re sleepy. Phones exist, Albus. You have one. Video calling can happen. We’re living in the modern age, not the twenties where you have to write letters to communicate with everyone.”

“Well, damn. That throws my plan out the window. I was about to order a messenger pigeon to send love letters to my American summer fling. Oh well!” Albus grinned, smothering his face with his pillow to shield himself from the wrath of James.

James whined from his side of the room. “I’m going to bed now. You’re annoying. I’m making it my mission to have you fall in love. Whether you communicate with pigeons or texts, I do not care. I just want to prove you wrong.”

“Night, Jamesy.” Albus chuckled. He mentally thanked past Albus for dressing in sweats and a t-shirt rather than jeans; now he was snug under the silk sheets and already bordering on sleep he couldn’t imagine having to rise and change into cosier clothes.

“Night, Al.” James’ voice sounded years away already, his brother seemingly drifting as much into peaceful slumber as Albus had been for the last few hours. Before he knew it, Albus’ eyes had weighted and he started drifting into sleep, the intense day of travelling and time zone changes hitting him all at once.

As he sank into a night of rest and relaxation Albus’ mind toyed with the idea of falling in love which James seemed to be encouraging so strongly. He’d written countless poems about moments of love he’d felt towards random strangers but had never considered actually feeling deep emotion for someone. As much as Albus coiled in to the thought of love and experiencing a splash of what his parents had held for countless years, a part of him felt reluctant to put himself through the stress. It would be hard and painful, if James’ life was any suggestion of what young love truly was. Still there was _something_ in Albus’ soul flirting with the concept.

Albus rolled over in bed, restless among the thoughts in his mind. Perhaps something could happen. Among the middle-aged socialites and rich businessmen with their families flocking Ivory Falls for their vacation, Albus thought, there had to be someone his age. Someone with a fire in their eyes and a mind wide with the potential for their future. Someone who matched his enthusiasm for individuality and had a soul bursting with passion for the one thing they desired most in the world. Someone he could blend with.

Someone he could write poetry about. A person he could look at and pour lines and lines onto paper about the curves of their cheeks or the sun bursting from their eyes. The rhythms of their voice could transcend into rhythms of sonnet lines, covering page upon page of his journal with bursts of positivity and love. For a moment Albus wondered whether such a person could exist for anyone, not just him. Whether there was someone for everyone, two people so perfect that their rough edges could effortlessly slot together to form a whole piece.

Then he remembered his parents. And his grandparents. The light in their eyes as they saw each other across a room or, more tragically, the lack of vibrancy as one half is taken from them. From the eruptions of love as they danced together at a wedding to the waterfall of tears falling like rain from the pews during a funeral. Expressions of love; love which extends beyond the planes of life and recurs even when one part has gone.

He no longer doubted the concept of a perfect pair. The last thought in Albus’ mind as he fell to his sleep that evening was _who_ he would find and when he would find them. He imagined they would have [blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZPQtb6NWKM) eyes, big and bright and full of enthusiasm as they looked at each other for the first time. Albus always thought blue and green looked beautiful together, intertwining natural colours that have their own individuality but still form a beautiful combination. Blue. Definitely blue.

“Go to bed, Albus,” James’ sleepy and slurred voice sounded in the silence. “I can hear your mind from over here.”


	3. courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> softness is not weakness. it takes courage to stay delicate in a world this cruel.  
> \- beau taplin, 'courage'

The dining room at Ivory Falls could change atmosphere with a flip of a coin; in the late evening sultry tones from local bands bounced off the walls, filling the area with encouragements of promiscuity and romance. Dinners and luncheons oozed professionalism as the tables boasted crisp, white tablecloths and the porcelain cutlery shone like a sea of stars outlining the placemats of the wealthy individuals who would be eating there for the day. The furniture would be cushioned with fine fabrics, not a squeak or creak to be heard as middle-aged men seated their heavy bodies down.

Even now, at nine in the morning as the sun began to creep up the clear sky, the dining room appeared completely different to the setting when Albus had arrived the evening prior. As he gently scrubbed his sleepy eyes and ignored the churning of his stomach as he awaited his breakfast, Albus glanced around in admiration at how altered the room now looked. Where the bar would have been bustling hours prior the staff had placed pitchers of juice and water waiting to be brought to the tables. The door to the kitchen constantly swung as waiters brought out dish after dish of breakfast foods to all the members cluttering around the circular tables. It was almost like a theatrical act; as time moved on the room and waiting staff all underwent quick changes to fit the new mood, dressing in costumes of luxury for the evenings or all white for [wedding receptions](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwi047_6wfvbAhUCuaQKHfQWBXkQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DeH3giaIzONA&usg=AOvVaw2nsLwrVElAShVcn9Nyg3gD).

The Potter’s reserved a table by the French doors extending on to the golf course for every meal. The laced table tops caught the sun beautifully, cutlery glinting and faces warmed with a morning glow as they waited for their food. Ginny’s eyes were cast to the course outside, staring longingly at the balls floating in the air while she idly stirred a cup of coffee. Lily and James had been engrossed in a mildly intense argument since they woke up, swatting petty insults at each other as James _insisted_ he hadn’t seen her sunglasses while Lily seethed in her seat.

Albus, however, had been too preoccupied taking in his surroundings to engage in any sort of conversation. He’d spent his morning assessing the workers as they danced around the cluttered tables, tiptoeing between small spaces as they paraded trays and cups to patrons. He looked back to his family, eventually, circling his gaze around everyone until he landed on his dad.

His dad whose eyes were glued to his phone screen. Harry’s glasses hung at the end of his nose, eyes squinting as he scanned what seemed like an endless text before him. The sleeves of his crisp, white shirt had been rolled up to avoid the blistering heat outside, top few buttons undone as his free hand fanned a menu over his exposed skin. It always confused Albus how his dad would always look a professional despite being on holiday. It bordered on uptight and anxious, always wanting to preserve his reputation just in case someone he knew happened to waltz in and spot him not in a button-up and a blazer.

“What are you reading?” Albus asked, fingertips circling the rim of his glass of orange juice.

Harry looked up from his phone, a smile spreading over his lips. “Nothing important. Work emails,” he explained, tucking the phone in his trouser pocket before smoothing his hands over his thighs. “How you doing? Jet lag hit you yet?”

Albus smiled. “Sort of. Slept like a log, though. I reckon it’ll hit me later today.”

“You just need to keep active, I’ve learned. Sitting around just makes you sleepy.” Harry advised, smiling up at a waiter as they approached with a handful of trays.

“Good morning, Mr Potter,” a slightly squeaked yet thick accented voice greeted. “Two pancakes, two French toast and one scrambled egg on toast?” He asked, tilting the tray up as if he needed to prove he had the breakfasts.

“Thank you. Pancakes for the ladies,” Harry answered, smile growing as the waiter set the plates down in front of Ginny and Lily. “French toast for me and the eldest and the scrambled egg for the scruffy haired one.”

Albus groaned, cheeks flushing a delicate rose colour at his dad’s comment. “I’m not scruffy haired,” he muttered. “Thank you.” He finished, smiling up at the waiter.

“No worries,” He replied, blue eyes lighting as he finished setting down the plates. “If you need anything else feel free to ask for me. My name’s Scorpius.”

Harry nodded, placing a gentle hand to his chest in an idiosyncratic way of expressing his gratitude. Harry had always been a very expressive person, wafting his hands everywhere and allowing his face to tell the tales of his mind. If he ever found himself lost for words – a rarity, given his outspokenness – Harry always relied on his hand gestures to get him through a conversation.

Albus’ eyes absent-mindedly followed the waiter – Scorpius, his mind helpfully supplied – as he scuttled between tables, sweeping empty plates in to an ever growing pile. His fingertips smoothed the tablecloths of any creases and wrinkles, the gentle _clink_ of glasses colliding creating soothing background music to wherever he walked. Albus had never seen him before which, in any normal circumstance, wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

However, this is the Potter family in their second home. Albus knew the ins and outs better than he knew his own hometown. He could rattle off the names of all the workers from the sight of the back of their heads and would be able to tell anyone their life story if he was asked. The setting and people at Ivory Falls had ended up becoming an expertise for Albus, so not knowing someone was confusing and abnormal. Particularly when the person in question looked exactly like a sonnet waiting to happen.

“He’s never worked here before has he?” Albus asked, gaze rapidly circulating around the table.

James shook his head first. “No, I don’t recognise him either. New recruit, maybe?”

Albus shrugged. “Dunno.” He murmured, devouring a savoury bite of his toast. His eyes found Scorpius again across the room; Albus knew that to anyone passing by he would look like a predator keenly stalking his prey and, from the fire-filled gaze James gave him from the other side of the table, it was clear someone had already noticed.

He shook his head, unruly hair batting against his forehead as he stared intently at his plate. Albus suddenly felt very hot; it stemmed from the blush that had summoned over his cheeks following his dad’s excruciatingly embarrassing description of him to the _very cute waiter named Scorpius_ , but now the pressing curiosity from James urged the heat to encompass him entirely.

“Do you still want to caddy for me today, Al?” Ginny broke the momentary silence. Her fingers curled around the handle of her mug while her free hand tapped an inconsistent rhythm over the ceramic surface. She beamed over at him, the tilt of her head allowing the sun to stream through the strands of her hair.

“Yes! I’d love to,” Albus answered, teasingly reaching over to tap their cups together. “It’s just you, right? And not any of the… other players.”

Ginny smirked. “You mean the other women who pinch your cheeks all the time?”

Albus groaned, downing his juice in a feeble attempt to wash the heat off his bones. “Yes, those players. It’s so humiliating. Like, how am I supposed to respond to someone telling me if I was around when they were younger I’d be right up their alley? I’m pretty sure people aren’t supposed to make those sorts of comments anymore.”

“People actually say that to you?” James scoffed, drips of water hanging on his chin from where he spat his drink out.

“Be nice, James.” Harry warned, eyes glued again to the ‘work emails’ he had been dissecting earlier that morning.

“Sorry,” James murmured. “I’ll be totally accepting of Albus’ marriage to a middle-aged woman. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

Albus and Lily burst in to laughter, little bubbles of joy coasting over the table. As Albus drunk in the disapproving glare from his dad, reciprocated the smile spread over his mother’s face and caught a slice of a curious look Scorpius had tossed in their direction, he knew his summer was about to get incredibly interesting.

 

Albus had been stood outside for all of ten minutes before he started complaining. He felt his skin reddening from the sweltering sun, beads of sweat swimming down to his fingertips as he stood with his mum’s golf bag slung over his shoulder. Albus didn’t want to know what temperature it was, for he already knew it was _too_ warm to be parading around an open course for the foreseeable future. He’d drained two water bottles and had lathered his skin up with half a bottle of sun lotion just as they reached the first tee. He would be the first to admit he was _beyond_ glad to watch a worker drive a golf cart up for them to use.

“I’m so hot.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious, baby,” Ginny answered, fingertips flicking through her yardage book as she assessed the fairway in front of her. “Better here than where your siblings are.”

“What could be worse than this, mum?” Albus complained, sifting through the golf bag to find the club his mum had requested. Despite growing up around the sport his entire life, spending many weekends stood on the eighteenth green to greet his mother with hugs as she won yet another tournament, Albus couldn’t even pretend to understand golf. Of course he knew the basic rules and the simple swings and clubs, but the assessment she did of _yardages_ and _grass quality_ would remain beyond his intellectual capacity.

“Being sat in a room with no air conditioning while your father works on a case.” Ginny answered, bending down to eloquently tee up her shot.

“Why are they doing that and not… you know… going to the pool?” Albus asked.

Ginny shrugged. “Your dad wanted to keep an eye on them after their argument this morning. So he’s having them sit in the conservatory with him for a couple of hours.”

“Yikes,” Albus murmured, remaining quiet afterwards as his mum drew her club back. She paused for a sliver of a second, dragging down in to the swing to send the ball soaring directly down the middle of the fairway. With no wind in the sky the ball practically danced straight through the air, landing with a delicate bounce and gradual roll until resting a few yards later. “That was perfect, mum.”

“Want to try?” Ginny asked, holding the club out.

“No, thanks. I’m not really a sporty person.” Albus smiled. He took the club anyway, cleaning the head with the towel hanging from her bag. As Ginny stepped into the cart Albus stored her bag on the back, merrily jogging to the driver’s side. He wasn’t old enough to start learning how to drive, so he deeply enjoyed swerving down fairways in the carts which he could drive. Though, Albus thought, if the maximum speed of the golf cart went higher than twenty he doubted Ginny would let him drive this, either.

“You could be if you tried.”

“It’s a shame I don’t want to try then,” Albus shrugged. “James was always the [sporty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCadcBR95oU) one. I’d really rather write or read than sweat unnecessarily.”

“I wish your brother had stuck with tennis,” Ginny sighed, popping the cap to a bottle of water. “He was really quite good, right? He could have gone really far if he’d believed in himself.”

Albus nodded, chancing a glance at his mum after he’d pulled up just away where her ball had come to rest. “Why did he give it up?”

Ginny paused. “Your dad, I think. He always mentioned wanting to tame James a little, as weird as that sounds. He was always very… lively, and I think it made your dad nervous. With you being so set on poetry and Lily going in to performing arts I guess he felt threatened that none of his kids would follow in his footsteps. So he tried to get James to give up sport and do law.”

“Oh,” Albus murmured, drumming his fingers over the wheel as his mum flipped open her yardage book. “I guess that explains why James took a gap year, then.”

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to attempt to get him to play a lot this holiday so he rekindles his love with the racket.”

“That’s a funny saying.” Albus smirked, reciprocating the wink Ginny tossed his way as she stepped up to her ball again. They continued that pattern for a while, chatting and giggling and driving along fairways, kneeling beside each other on the greens as Ginny attempted to teach Albus how to read a putt.

Ginny’s scorecard plummeted in to negative numbers, her skill and talent allowing her to effortlessly devour the course as if it were mini-golf. There was a knowing glint in her eye as she scrambled from sand-traps and read a putt with three breaks in it to perfection. Albus found it amazing how years after winning here she could still glide her way around the eighteen holes, making time for conversation and water breaks during particularly heated moments.

Before Albus even knew it they had approached the eighteenth green. He found himself staring to the back right corner where he and the family had stood ten years prior, bouncing on the balls of his feet as his mum’s approach shot bounced two feet away from the cup. Harry had clutched a young Lily in his arms, fingers caressing her cheek as he bounced with nervousness, free hand clasping James’ shoulder. Albus remembered cameras capturing every expression on his face, the way he stared around in awe at the crowd of golf fans congregating outside the ropes. He still had a newspaper clipping of his face from an article captioned ‘ _Potter’s son, six, staring lovingly as she claims her seventh major win’_ pinned to his wall at home.

“So many good memories here,” Ginny kissed Albus’ cheek, arm wrapping around his shoulders as if she just read his mind. “I love this place.”

“That was a good day.” Albus declared, turning back to watch his mum finish her putt.

“It was,” Ginny smiled. “Why don’t you come finish this off?”

“Mum,” Albus sighed. “I don’t want to ruin your scorecard.”

Ginny’s head shook. “You won’t. This is my birdie putt anyway. If you miss I’ll make par. Please, sweetheart.” She urged, holding the putter out for Albus.

After a moment of reluctance Albus finally reached out and took the club, crouching down behind the ball in an attempt to read where he needed to hit it. From this distance, a mere six foot away, the hole seemed the size of a penny. Albus was unsure as to why he was nervous, he supposed he just didn’t want to embarrass himself or upset his mum.

“Is this going to break left to right?” Albus asked; Ginny’s bones popped quietly as she crouched behind her son, arm outstretched while she gathered the curvature of the green. Finally she nodded, murmuring something about the pace of the green. As they both stood up Ginny pulled her phone from her pocket, inevitably wanting to film Albus just in case he managed to pull this off.

Albus’ grip felt weak on the putter, the heat and nerves causing his hands to sweat at an unusually fast rate. He swiped his palm over his shorts, attempting a few practice strokes a step away from the ball. He took a moment, collecting his unnecessary nerves as he stood behind the ball, adjusting his feet and the distance between him and the ball.

Then he drew a short and sharp backswing, club pointing to the left. A short break, his swing and the ball started to roll. It bumped over the uneven green, speeding along towards the hole. Albus observed as the ball began to break where he expected, the curving surface directing the ball straight in to the centre of the hole. Filled with emotion similar to the summer day all those years ago, Albus’ hands dropped the club as he leapt into the air. Ginny cheered from the cart, jogging towards him with her arms outstretched.

“That was so good, Al,” Ginny beamed, fingertips gently pinching his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ve never been so stressed in my entire life,” Albus laughed, a deep exhale shattering through his ribs as he picked up the club and went to collect the ball. “How did you do that professionally without shaking?”

“Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve,” Came Ginny’s simple reply, arm swinging around her son’s shoulders as they walked off the green towards the clubhouse. “Lunch?”

 

Just outside the dining room stood an arrangement of picnic benches. The benches are by small fountains casting sprinklings of moisture into the often blisteringly hot environment, cooling the pavements where members would have to walk and preventing the seats from heating too much. Umbrellas stood in the middle of the benches to envelop the space with shade, offering a safe space of calm away from the interrogative sun.

Ginny and Albus had chosen a bench near one of the fountains, the occasional splashes of water being savoured by their browning skin. Upon sitting down Albus realised he forgot to apply sun cream to collarbones as the skin already began to tint a strawberry colour. As he released his watch he could already see the inklings of a tan outlining where the straps had coiled around his wrist, the metal latch almost burning his skin. He knew he probably looked a state; his genetically messy hair, drenched with sweat, latched to his forehead despite his attempts to blot the dampness away with napkins and towels. His cheeks erupted with freckles under the heat, nose reddening ever so slightly as he developed a mild heat rash.

The moment they sat down the waiters brought over the menus and pitchers of water, fresh ice already melting even though it had been placed out of direct contact with the sun. Albus had drained three cups worth by the time he and his mum had decided what they wanted.

(The number of glasses he drank would end up being an essential number, Albus realised later.)

After the waiter who took their order sashayed off towards the kitchen Ginny excused herself to the restroom. Her skin shone with a layer of sweat which no towel or water-filled napkin would wash away. She could hardly grip a glass without it slipping as though she were oil and it were water. So Ginny had momentarily departed the table, leaving Albus to his thoughts and the endless pitcher of water he had decided to drink the entirety of.

As Albus glanced up to the sky, perfectly round sun directly above his head, he cursed the lack of clouds that tainted the blue expanse. There seemed to be no escape from the impeding heat; the sun appeared to have transformed in to some sort of transcendental force that wanted to watch everyone at every moment. The rays which spread over Albus’ delicate skin and filtered through the umbrella turned in to pairs of eyes watching his every move. The thought made him rather self-conscious.

“Would you like some more water?” A strangely familiar, yet completely unexpected voice, asked.

Albus jumped. Not intentionally, of course, but he felt his soul momentarily leave his body as he turned to meet Scorpius’ eyes. “Why would I need more water?” Came Albus’ overwhelmed and nervous response.

Scorpius cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve had three glasses and have been sat down for about ten minutes.”

“How do you know I’ve had three glasses?” Albus asked. As he looked down at his almost empty glass of water he felt himself becoming hyper-aware about how much water he’d been drinking. He guessed it would look pretty unusual for someone to drink so much, and now flooded with fear that Scorpius would think he was a weird water addict who had no self-control. But then, the other side of his brain argued, why would Scorpius care about what Albus was drinking? Even more so, some other part of his body interrupted, why did Albus care what Scorpius thought about him, let alone his drinking habits?

Albus realised an uncomfortably long amount of time had passed between his question and Scorpius’ answer. “It’s… um. I – It’s my job to look at what members need. You look like you could do with some more water. Are you okay? You look faint. Do you need a medic? You might have heat stroke.”

Albus blinked, a long and excruciating blink, as he took in Scorpius’ comment. “Of course, because you’re a waiter. That was a really stupid question. I’m sorry,” Albus rambled. “I’ll be fine. I just turn very red in the sun. I’d love some more water.”

Scorpius nodded; Albus couldn’t work out if the smile Scorpius gave him before retreating from the table was one of joy or pity. He also didn’t know which one he would prefer. Albus’ fingers found themselves nervously tapping over his glass, fingertips swiping over drips of evaporation sailing down the side. Albus momentarily thought about what happened to their original waitress, a gorgeous brunette called Aubrey who had been working at the Club every summer for the last five years to fund her through art school.

“Break, probably.” Albus muttered, throat grateful as he took another long swig from his water.

“Break?”

Scorpius. Again.

Albus looked up. Scorpius had truly beaming blue eyes, he noticed, glinting like diamonds with an essence of sapphire weaving their way through his irises. They looked like very expressive eyes, similar to Harry’s, where you could look into them and read the entire book of Scorpius’ life through the two windows to his soul.

“Nothing,” Albus replied, pace so quick that his reply sounded more like _nu’in._ “Thank you.”

Scorpius shook his head, setting the fresh pitcher down by Albus. He filled Albus’ glass, pushing it towards his fingers when the water was teasing the edge. “It’s my job,” he smiled. Scorpius paused, fingers gripping the table as he looked everywhere but Albus. “You’re Harry Potter’s son, right?”

Albus reluctantly nodded. “I am. How do you know my dad?”

“I’m familiar with famous lawyers. And your mum, of course. She’s one of the most loved members among the staff,” Scorpius replied, cheeks reddening immediately after his comment. “That sounds so weird, I’m sorry. When I started working here my co-workers gave me a rundown of the regular members. I’ve learned that the Nott’s are miserable socialites who don’t tip, the Longbottom’s are nature-loving professors and that the Potter’s are wonderful.”

“Oh,” Albus murmured. He smiled, cheeks embedding with dimples as Scorpius looked at him again. “I’m glad my family name is good. Now, uh… now it is my turn to sound weird. How long have you worked here? I know everything about this place and have never seen you.”

“Only a few months. Summer job, raising money and all that.” Scorpius shrugged, cutting their conversation short as Ginny returned to the table. She’d pulled her hair back into a pony-tail, a few strands falling free to frame her cheekbones. She smiled, of course, at Scorpius as she sat down, fingertips finally curling around her glass as she sipped at her lemon-infused water.

“What’s this, then?” She asked.

“Water.” Both Albus and Scorpius replied. Scorpius’ tone came out cool and collected while Albus’ clearly reeked of excuses and dishonesty.

“Oh, of course. Thank you,” Ginny paused, eyes squinting over the top of her sunglasses as she searched for Scorpius’ nametag. “Scorpius. Thank you.”

Scorpius bowed his head, eyes casting one last look at Albus before he scurried back off to the kitchen. Albus watched as he stumbled over a picnic table, foot twisting slightly as he tripped and regained balance in time to avoid bumping in to a member.

“Water.” Ginny repeated, eyes burning a knowing look as she gazed at her son.

“He did come over for water originally. Asked if I needed more, said I looked faint. Something about heat stroke. Then we just got talking.” Albus explained.

Ginny nodded. Her head tilted to the side, free hand pressing to Albus’ forehead. “You do look pale. We can go to the infirmary later and see what the nurse says,” she murmured. “He seems sweet. He’s your age, yeah?”

“I didn’t ask. He’s not been here long. Saving money for something. Probably college.” Albus theorised. Ginny went to speak again as Scorpius returned to the table, this time two plates balanced atop of his palms.

“Hi,” Scorpius smiled. “I have a chicken, cheese and sweetcorn wrap and an avocado with greens salad.”

“Wrap for the little one and salad for me, please,” Ginny answered, smile growing as Scorpius crossed the table to place their plates in front of him. Just as he was about to depart she dipped her hand in to her pocket, pulling out some notes. Her knuckles gently drummed over the picnic table, fingertips folding the money as she handed the tip to Scorpius. “Thank you, [sweetheart](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwj2kpTUw_vbAhUCuaQKHfQWBXkQyCkILTAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DqeMFqkcPYcg&usg=AOvVaw1eE2ywpphWFB1i0aMmA0ud).”

Scorpius’ face split into a smile, eyes flashing delight as he dipped back in to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Ginny continued. “I really like him.”

 

Four in the afternoon. Albus felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Following lunch he and Ginny returned to their suite, a trip which lasted all of five minutes as Albus soon found himself curved over the bathroom sink, the contents of his stomach spilling everywhere. Ginny put together his broken pieces; she cooled his skin with an ice cold towel and gave him a chilled water bottle to sip and press to his forehead. Her loving fingers massaged aloe and after-sun lotion in to his reddened skin, maternal lips dotting kisses to his temples and his forehead. She stripped his t-shirt for a clean, white vest, dosing him up with Ibuprofen as they stumbled down to the first aid area.

And now they were in this position. Albus had been lying on the infirmary bed, in darkness, for the last few hours. The moment his head touched the pillow he dropped out of consciousness, the air conditioned room feeling like sweet snowflakes over his screaming skin. He hadn’t realised until he lay horizontally that his head pounded, a recurring beat directly to the front of his mind. His throat felt closed up, like he’d forgotten how to breathe, and his body felt entirely numb. The sun seemed to have extended her horrible claws to every inch of Albus’ body, taunting him with high temperatures and lack of moisture. Her rays sucked every ounce of life and health out of him, leaving him an over-heated and burning mess.

Essentially: Albus had heat stroke. He’d been prescribed pain-killers, rest and bottles upon bottles of water. His mum sat by the side of his bed, systematically sponging water over his skin, her free hand rubbing soothing circles in to the bone on his wrist. Albus felt it had to be a sign about how his summer was about to go. He’d spent every summer of his life in the heat and had never suffered so badly; Albus assumed he’d forgotten to do something to protect himself from the heat, or that he had been preoccupied by another thought which stopped him from taking regular breaks from direct access to the heat. Going from never having a problem with the sun in his entire life to suffering this badly on the first day of his holiday clearly resonated as a bad omen in Albus’ mind.

“Hi, pumpkin,” Ginny soothed as Albus rose from his sleep. Her fingertips kept him lying on the bed as he attempted to sit up, head gently shaking at his action. “Stay down. Nurse told me to keep you flat until I can check you’re okay.”

Albus nodded. “Can I have some water?”

“Of course,” Ginny murmured, bringing a bottle of water down to Albus’ lips so he could gently sip away at it. “Spooky how the waiter guessed this.”

“Huh?”

“Scorpius,” Ginny repeated, fingers carding through Albus’ greased hair. “He said at lunch you might have heat stroke. And you did. I just find it funny how he guessed that and now here we are. I might go back and thank him a little later.”

A knock sounded at the door. Seconds later James’ head popped in to sight, eyebrows drawn intensely together as he tiptoed in to the room. “Hey,” he murmured. “Dad passed the news on to Lils and I. Thought I’d come see him.”

“Hi, love.” Ginny welcomed.

“Heat stroke, then?” James asked.

“Yeah. Silly love didn’t drink enough while we were golfing and kept standing in the sun. He was also wearing black, which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in years.” Albus’ mum answered for him, their conversation flowing as if Albus wasn’t even in the room.

“Dad said he needs to speak to you whenever you’re free,” James declared. “I can stay with him if you want to head off now.”

Ginny nodded, lips pressing a gracious kiss to James’ cheek as she stood up. “Thank you. Keep him flat until the nurse comes back. Sponge his face every few minutes, keep him drinking water. If he gets too warm turn the air conditioning up. I’ll see you later.”

James smiled. He waited until their mum had left the room before taking her seat, tucking it much closer to the bed as he leaned over Albus. The sponge in his fingers dripped water over Albus’ cheek; under any other circumstance Albus would have protested. But now, skin gladly drinking up the presence of the liquid, he didn’t mind.

“What’s up with you?” James asked.

“I think I’m distracted.”

“No shit,” James laughed, dragging the sponge over Albus’ forehead. “Who’s distracting you?”

Albus paused. “How do you know it’s a person?”

“That waiter?”

Another pause. “Yeah,” Albus’ reluctantly answered, allowing his eyes to close. If Albus could somehow blur the boundaries between reality and dreams right now he would jump at the opportunity; he had a strong desire to not continue this conversation with James but, given the circumstances, he knew the chances of that happening were impossibly slim. “Don’t tell mum and dad.”

“Because they don’t know you’re gay?” Albus’ silence resonated as his definite answer. “I wouldn’t tell them. It’s not my business to tell.”

“Thanks.”

The two brothers remained silent for the next few minutes. James continued to sponge Albus’ face, almost eager to cool him down as fast as possible, while Albus stared with contemplative urgency at the ceiling. He felt like a mess, a bit like a baked potato. Despite his skin burning he was able to present a semi-complete image on the outside but his insides had turned to completely useless mush. Albus knew if he was made of plastic he would have melted, remains turning into a meaningless pulp of clothes on the floor as his body dissolved from the world.

“You need to do something to chill,” James finally said. “We’ve been here for a day and you’re already… like this. I haven’t see you so uptight since you had a crush on your best friend in primary school.”

“This is completely different,” Albus argued, beckoning James to bring him the bottle of water again. “For starters, I don’t have a crush.”

“You do.”

“I _don’t_.” Albus retorted.

James paused, head gently bobbing into a slight nod. “Okay… you don’t have a crush. That’s fine. You still need to do something to chill a bit. I’m pretty sure mum and dad have a lunch tomorrow with dad’s lawyer friends. Fancy a pool day with Lils and me?”

“I thought dad had banned you a Lily from doing anything without his supervision?” Albus inquired.

“Sort of, the buzzkill,” James shrugged. “But if you’re there he can’t complain. Anyway, I’m nineteen. He can’t control me anymore, and it’s like he’s incapable of saying no to Lily. We can totally overpower him.”

Albus chuckled. “Fine. Pool day.” He answered just as the nurse came back in to the room. Her eyes cooled in confusion at the sight of James. She gathered some clipboards and instruments, the purposes and names of which Albus did not know, scurrying over to him with her hands full.

After a mildly traumatising assessment validating his health, Albus checked out of the infirmary. Despite the nurse’s taunts to take it easy the two boys practically ran out of the room, play-fighting as they paraded up the stairs to their room. Their parents may have treated them to disapproving glares as they bundled through the door, the symphony of their laughter filling the one silent space, but neither of them minded that much.

 

Albus excused himself from dinner, insisting his headache had returned and that he needed to rest early if he had a chance at recovering. His mum had offered to walk him to their room, the worry etched in her face as he stood from the table. Albus knew she blamed herself for what happened to him. After all, if he hadn’t been caddying for her that day he wouldn’t have been in the sun for so long. The guilt on her face hurt and made Albus feel bad for exploiting the incident to get out of family events, but it didn’t last too long.

He had a reputation of being distant from his family in big social situations. They expected him to have said no to coming down to dinner, his dad insisting he take the evening slow and do what would make him feel better. But Albus had something he needed to do away from the gaze of his parents. And when Albus Potter had something he _needed_ to do there was never a doubt in his mind that it would lie uncompleted at the end of the evening.

Albus came down to dinner with the goal of spotting Scorpius or asking another worker where he would be. He’d dressed in a more presentable fashion than he’d appeared at lunch, relatively expensive shirt tucked in to his navy shorts bought from some designer brand he couldn’t remember the name of. After a cooling shower Albus had managed to wipe the glossy sheen from his face, the collar of his polo shirt now skirting over his tanning skin rather than the blotchy red expanse from earlier. He’d chosen a different seat to the one he usually had at their table; instead of wanting to stare out the French doors on to the club’s property had had taken one looking right into the heart of the dining hall. Every time his eyes caught sight of a waiter he jumped, eyes preening to see who they were. The challenge to find Scorpius didn’t take long. Albus noticed a severe lack of blond-headed waiters so spotting Scorpius became very easy. Under the dimmed light of the dining hall Scorpius’ hair radiated like stars, almost outlining him among the dull setting of the other members as he swerved back in to the kitchen with plates, not returning after he disappeared a few minutes ago.

So now Albus was here. After excusing himself from dinner he took a convoluted and winding route to the gardens just outside the kitchen. The staff had an open door to the gardens allowing a cooling summer breeze to waft into the often burning room. Albus sat himself down on the grass outside the kitchen, weaving flower stems between his fingertips. He didn’t know what he hoped to achieved by sitting out on the grass, nor had he prepared any of what he wanted to say to Scorpius if he managed to catch him.

A small part of Albus felt weird sitting outside the kitchen, wondering whether coming here would look too friendly for someone he’d spoken to a handful of times. It hit him then that Scorpius didn’t even know Albus’ name. Now he felt foolish, head shaking as he went to push himself up from the ground. How Albus thought it would be appropriate or _normal_ to seek out a stranger to thank them for subtly diagnosing them with heat stroke, he didn’t know.

“Uhm – [hello](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwikt-T1w_vbAhUF6KQKHenkBuQQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DBx51eegLTY8&usg=AOvVaw14V7JtBYnRjhFo28rm5_sX)?”

Albus’ head turned. Between Scorpius’ clasped hands and shuffling feet he seemed tired, darkened circles painting his under eyes. His hair curled slight at the edges, nose scrunched up as he stepped out the kitchen to the garden where Albus sat.

“Hi,” Albus smiled, settling back down on to the pillow of flowers and grass he’d prepared to run away from moments before. “Can I have a word?”

Scorpius nodded, an essence of hesitation lingering as he sat down beside Albus. His fingers found the petals of a small flower, tips brushing over the coloured surface as he turned to look at Albus. “What’s up… person-whose-name-I-don’t-know.”

Albus smiled. “I’m Albus.”

“Albus,” Scorpius repeated. “Hi. I’m Scorpius.”

“It’s nice to meet you, properly.” Albus said.

Scorpius nodded. He lay his apron down on the grass, lying down flat to stare up to the sky. Even in the dark, the blue sky long gone as the sun set and stars littered above them, the air remained crystal clear. Any aircraft soaring above blinked their lights with no pollution blocking their way. The twinkle of the stars appeared like indicators on a car, flickering on and off as time passed. “You too. What d’you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to thank you, actually,” Albus started. “Turns out I did have heat stroke. I’ve spent most of my day in the infirmary feeling a little like death and a little like a rock in the sun. I never would’ve suspected anything was wrong if you hadn’t pointed out I looked faint. I was about to go out to the tennis courts after lunch but my mum said we should go back to our room to cool down a little. The club would be covered in the contents of my stomach if I hadn’t gone back.”

They both chuckled a little at Albus’ final sentence, the sounds coiling together in a harmonious tune that filtered in to the air. “I’m glad I could help. You’d be surprised how many members end up getting heat stroke or sun stroke out here.”

“How did you guess that’s what was wrong?” Albus asked.

“I want to be a doctor,” Scorpius started, clearing his throat as he turned to face Albus a little more. “Kind of a childhood dream which I still feel passionately about. I’m still in high school but I’ve learned a little about medicine. Living in California heat and sun stroke are more common than a cold.”

Albus nodded, smile curving on his face again and dimples carving in to his cheeks. “A doctor? That’s really cool. I think my dad would cry tears of joy if I told him I wanted to be a doctor.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Scorpius inquired. From behind them the sound of smashing plates filled the air, bundles of giggles following afterwards as the workers inevitably cleaned up the mess which they had caused.

“I like to write. Ideally I want to be a poet, but that’s quite hard.”

“You write poetry?”

Albus paused. “Not very good poetry, but yeah.”

“My mum was a writer,” Scorpius smiled. “She used to write mystery fiction. One of her books got turned into a short TV series, actually.”

“Was?” Albus dared to ask. Scorpius’ eyes flickered, blinks speeding up as he searched to clear his face of the sadness which had brewed there. His lips pulled down slightly, bottom one tugging between his teeth as he thought over his response.

“She… uhm – she passed away a few years ago.” Came Scorpius’ simple reply. Albus bowed his head ever so slightly; as he looked over at Scorpius he saw him looking earnestly at the sky, eyes glazed and inner corners pooling with sweet tears.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Albus murmured, tugging his fingers through his hair. “Am I keeping you? You look tired, I don’t want to take up anymore of your time if you–”

“You’re not,” Scorpius interrupted. His fingers which had been gliding through the glass now crossed over his chest. Scorpius’ skin, despite the sun during the day, looked pale still. He reminded Albus a little of Snow White only without the dark hair. He had a complexion of softness and beauty, like a very delicate figure from a music box. “Trust me, you’re not.”

When Scorpius’ voice faded and he spoke in quiet tones Albus detected a hint of a British accent slipping through the creases. He spoke quickly and with a gentle squeak, sounding as though he always had so much to say but not enough time to say it in. As if every second was valuable and that he needed to communicate every single thought swarming in his mind before it was too late.

“Where do you even sleep?” Albus asked. Their silence, as warm and natural as it felt, displeased Albus. All he wanted to do in that moment was speak to Scorpius and learn everything about him. Perhaps he was drunk on the sun but he wanted to extend this moment as much as possible. Albus knew the second he returned to the suite he’d be slapping words in to his journal, incoherent phrases about blondeness and American accents that he would hopefully transform into a poem at some point.

“The summer staff have a quarters on the other side of the pool,” Scorpius explained, absent-mindedly tossing his hand in the direction of the outdoor pool. “They’re like small cottages, basically. You either get your own or share with someone. Behind this huge fence. They essentially want to hide us from the view of members. Even though it’s no secret we live on site the bosses seem to think it’s dirty to let members know that us lower-class peasants stay on the property.”

“Yeah,” Albus chuckled. “You get that vibe from them, don’t you? They’re the worst kind of rich. All they care about is labels and reputation.”

“I didn’t put you down as the type to dislike the owners seeing as, like, you stay here every year.” Scorpius commented, a mildly inquisitive tone settling in to his words.

“Everyone in my family except for my dad hates the owners,” Albus started to explain, turning to looking directly at Scorpius. “My mum comes here for the golf course. That’s it. My dad has connections here through law and everything. I think they’re awful people. They also charge an ungodly membership fee for a place which has some subpar amenities.”

Scorpius’ laughter rattled through the air. Somehow his laughter cracked and broke like his voice did, elements of both his accents dripping in to the bubbles joy that popped when they escaped his mouth. “Spoken like the true son of a rich man.”

Albus smiled. He glanced down at his watch, sighing as he eventually stood up. “I hate to cut this short, but if I don’t get to my suite now I’ll be dead by the morning.”

“Explain?”

“I lied to my parents saying I had a headache to get out of dinner and come to speak to you. They’ll be getting back soon and if I’m not there… I’m gone.” Albus grinned, reciprocating the understanding smile Scorpius tossed his way as they stood face to face.

“Okay. Well, it’s been nice getting to know you, Albus.” Scorpius said, holding his fist out for Albus.

Albus glanced down at it, waiting a moment before bumping his fist against Scorpius’. “You too, Scorpius. I’ll see you around.”

Scorpius nodded; he raised his hand in a mock salute as he turned on his heel, the two boys exiting in opposite directions. Albus may have smiled a little more that evening as he got back to the suite just before his family returned, pretending to wake from a nap as James sauntered in to the room.

They looked at each other over the room as James perched on the end of his bed. His gaze was intense with suspicion and Albus imagined their eye contact could transform into a perfect example of a Wild West stand-off, both looking at each other with certainty and a reluctance to blink. Albus tugged his blanket over his lap, smiling as James leaned ever so slightly forwards.

“You have such a shit poker face, Albus.” James finally commented, tilting his head to the side as he attempted to break Albus’ defence. It didn’t take much longer for Albus’ face to split into a smile, hair shaking around his ears as he gleefully bounced around on his bed.

“I don’t even care,” Albus laughed. “I’ve had a great evening. How was your time in that _wonderful_ dinner hall?”

James groaned. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“Nope.”

“So, like,” James started. “Was it totally romantic? Something right out of a rom-com?” He asked.

Albus tossed the question over in his mind, reliving every second of his encounter with Scorpius. Scorpius’ blue eyes were definitely something right out of a romance book, he thought, as was their inter-continental situation. He thought they could be a story that would spin together with a lush amount of angst and uncertainty, topped by a gentle sprinkle of love and exhilaration.

“I’m not sure,” Albus replied. “We sat in a garden of flowers and talked about life and stuff?”

“Yeah,” James sighed. “I’m definitely never going to hear the end of this.”

As James retired to his bed, back deliberately turned to Albus as he lay to rest, Albus pulled out his journal and his pencil. He thought his mind would be sick with phrases of beauty about Scorpius but as he sat there to create he found himself lost for words. He racked his brain for _something_ that would somehow communicate the beauty Albus had encountered this evening, a simple world to quantify the level of charisma and charm Scorpius exuberated.

Albus accepted defeat after half an hour of nothingness. As he set his journal down and wrapped himself into the silky sheets Albus went to sleep having written only two words down in his book.

_[Blue](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjI382DxPvbAhUJMuwKHV3XBAAQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DFYH8DsU2WCk&usg=AOvVaw1MTo1jBbcjOqgw-dfp6MuK). Fragile._

Albus felt they were a promising start to the eventual poem he’d write about his summer. Whether a sonnet or a heartbreak poem, Albus couldn’t predict. He just knew, deep in his heart, it would be a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: scorpiusmlafoy


	4. for life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beautiful. crushingly so. you look like the rest of my life.  
> \- beau taplin, 'for life'

_Blue. Fragile._

As Albus woke the next day and set out to gather everything he would need for the pool the two words echoed around his mind. While he folded a towel and dropped bottles of sunscreen – _plenty_ of sunscreen – in to his bag Albus couldn’t help but to think about Scorpius and, like a young child developing their first primary school crush, wonder whether he’d see him again today.

Albus couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was so enticing about Scorpius. He felt flustered by all these clichés he never would have expected to experience himself; Albus never thought he’d feel a strong connection to someone, like magnets being drawn to each other, and at that moment in time felt like a walking chick-lit novel. As he pushed his sunglasses in to his dark hair and withdrew bottles of water from the cooler in their suite Albus tossed reasons and explanations for his complete infatuation with Scorpius around his brain. Scorpius looked very pretty, obviously, with his slightly _flick-y_ blond hair and peachy lips which erupted with happiness whenever he smiled. But then his personality, Albus also thought, encapsulated positivity and radiance for life. His voice would bubble with interest and shiver with tones and emotion as he spoke about things he cared about. Albus just thought him to be one of the most interesting people he’d ever met.

“Are you ready, Al?” James called from the living space. Albus popped his head out from the kitchenette to answer, squinting as he took in James’ appearance. His skin had tanned after the rain of sun the day before and his choice of clothes, coral toned swim trunks and a white vest to cover up, looked deliberately chosen to accentuate his colour. Albus tilted his head, analysing the designer labels embedded on the clothes, allowing hesitant laughter to drift from between his lips.

“Why are you… uh… looking like that?” Albus asked, slinging his rucksack over his shoulders. He stepped towards James, fingertips smoothing the designer emblem placed over his heart.

“Looking like what?” James inquired, faux innocence leaking from his question.

“Looking like a really shitty version of an exotic Greek god, or something else along those lines.” Albus said, dropping some bottles of water in to Lily’s open bag.

“He’s on the pull,” Lily interrupted, speaking up from her space in the corner where she had been spending time lathering her arms with coconut scented sun cream. “When we were with dad yesterday he saw this girl and has been gushing about her since.”

Albus inclined his eyebrow, tossing a curious glance to his brother. “Well,” he started. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” He teased, revelling in the way James’ cheeks darkened. It was a rare sight to witness James Potter flustered, fists bunched up and freckled cheeks painted rose.

“You’re both the worst siblings I could have wished for. Mum and dad should have stopped after me.”

To the chorus of their laughter the three Potter [kids](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjVoPLUwYHcAhVB6aQKHQ6VDCIQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dr_GH6M7cUq4&usg=AOvVaw29t4CFz8wOJ1UKhJERMfma) scuttled down to the pool, heaving their bags to the side of three sun loungers set up under the safety of an umbrella. Their parents had _professional_ engagements all day; they’d started bright and early for a breakfast with former professional golfers who now either commentated or slouched around on a senior tour. Later in the day they’d been invited to a luncheon hosted by the Nott Firm, promises of business potential and connection making oozing from the invite that had been cast at Harry. So the children had been granted a day of freedom, eyes glazed with happiness as they tossed ideas about what to do with their parentless time.

They decided to begin at the pool, of course, wanting to wade in the cooling shallows over cups of lemonade. James had noted that they could order lunch to their loungers, head nodding to the menus set up on the side tables around the swimming pool. The moment they stepped foot on the damp paving slabs encircling the pool Lily jumped straight in to the water, hair shimmering and straightening as she glided under the surface. James and Albus set up a station of water and sun cream, adjusting alarms on their phone to alert them of when to reapply and rehydrate. After the catastrophe that had been Albus’ heat stroke the prior day none of the Potter family wanted to chance any additional sickness.

“She’s so active.” James mused, eyes trailing Lily as she swam lap after lap across the pool. His lips glazed from the residue of a sip of water he’d just taken, fingertips absent-mindedly twirling the cap.

“Just like you used to be.” Albus pried; he recalled the conversation with his mum from yesterday, her eyes tugged down in sadness as she spoke about James sacrificing his passion. After the pain and guilt he put her through following his whole heat stroke incident, it only felt right for Albus to help aid her mission to get James back on the tennis court.

“What’s your point?”

Albus blinked, the unexpected sharpness in James’ comment sending him momentarily off guard. “Uhm,” he started. “The whole tennis thing. Mum and I were talking about it yesterday.”

“I don’t like talking about tennis,” James murmured. His fingertips tugged his sunglasses over his eyes, blocking them from Albus’ sight. “It’s one of those what-could-have-been moments, isn’t it?”

“Could have been?” Albus repeated. “It can still happen, James.”

“You think dad would let me pick up tennis again?”

Albus shrugged. “Since when does he have a say in what you do?”

James paused in a contemplative silence; he pressed his palms to the side of his hat, tugging it unnecessarily further on to his head as he avoided Albus’ question. They both gazed at Lily for a moment, gentle Lily who had scraped her way in to a conversation with a set of twins at the shallow end of the pool. She was still too young to have dealt with any ‘big’ decisions in her life. The most important choice she’d made so far must have been which colour horse she wanted, Albus thought. Nothing compared to the fluctuating difficulty of James’ life.

“It’s different for me,” James started after minutes of nothingness. “You and Lils have always known what you want. She’s always danced and performed and you’ve always wanted books. Dad knew since you two were born that you wouldn’t want to do law. I’ve always been more happy-go-lucky. He saw that as a chance to mould me in to a mini-Harry.”

Albus nodded. “Okay… but he clearly knows you don’t want to do law. Why are you letting him control you?”

“Because it’s _dad,_ ” James sighed. His fingers scrubbed whispers of dripping water from the side of his bottle, smearing the excess over his browning legs. “I’m named after _his_ dad. We’ve always been the father and son duo. When we were kids he was my closest friend. He’d take me to the tennis courts after school and he’d go to football games with me. I feel like I owe him a lawyer son because of everything he’s done for me.”

“That’s shit, James.” Albus murmured.

“Yeah,” shrugged James. “I know.”

A worker brought over more pitchers of lemonade, [ice](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjh1N2WwYHcAhUE36QKHRNYCaoQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Drog8ou-ZepE&usg=AOvVaw1QwpsmpT7nGQ2lfZbbBf-T) cubes bobbing happily around the container as they bumped into the edges. A lemon slice hung over the rim, decorative mint leaves floating helplessly like sailors lost at sea.

“I still don’t think you should give up just because of dad.” Albus commented, swirling his mostly empty glass.

“Can we talk about something else?” James asked. Albus sensed an essence of sadness and regret slipping in to James’ request and nodded, eyes scanning their setting to think of something else for them to talk about. As much as the two of them could talk for hours and hours about the deepest things without shedding a single tear or delving too deep in to a pit of emotion, Albus could tell when enough was enough. And as sadness radiated from James’ frown, Albus knew they’d reached the limit.

Albus decided to let their silence simmer on, taking a book from his bag to read while James went to accompany Lily in her overly difficult water tricks. He traced his fingertip over the index, flicking to a poem which peaked his interest. The words wove together in irregularly indented paragraphs, lines not matching up but forming a wave like shape. With the poem detailing love as an adventure across an ocean, much like _those_ lines from Shakespeare’s sonnet 116, Albus thought the poem looked extremely beautiful.

Underneath the patterned umbrella with an endless stream of lemonade and sun cream resting beside him Albus felt on top of the world. Shivers of tranquillity enveloped him as he tossed over the pages of the collection resting in his lap, skin a soothing level of warm as he hid from the invasive beams and bathed in the scattered rays which rained through the umbrella. All was peaceful.

“Albus?”

Until _that_.

“Scorpius?” In a flustered state, caught off guard by the presence of Scorpius, Albus sat up, book flinging off his lap to the end of the lounger and glass of lemonade spilling over his shorts. He groaned at the mess he just made – similar to the mess Scorpius had caused in Albus’ mind over the last few days – and hurried to clean it as Scorpius stood there. Just stood.

“Hey,” a flicker of uncertainty settled deep in Scorpius’ greeting. “I’m not stalking you, I promise. There was just a request for more towels to this area and, like… I’ve brought the towels.”

“Towels? I haven’t ordered towels,” Albus murmured. Then it hit him; he leaned to look behind Scorpius and saw his eyes meeting James’, a cruel and conniving grin painting his previously saddened expression. “Right. Okay. Just put them on the lounger.”

Scorpius nodded. He lay the towels at the end of James’ chair, hands stuffing in to his pocket as he looked back over at Albus. “Are you feeling better after yesterday?” He asked.

Albus paused. As he looked a Scorpius he breathed in the look of curiosity and concern radiating from his eyes. His blue irises seemed clouded, almost, as though the idea of Albus not being okay had been bothering him for a long while. “I am, thank you. Staying out of the sun today, though. Strict orders from mum and dad.”

Scorpius smiled. “Good,” he should have left after that. Their conversation had ended, surely, but Scorpius remained. He even crossed around to sit on James’ lounger, fingers smoothing over his coarse towel as he looked over at Albus. “Do you need help clearing up the lemonade?”

“I should be okay,” Albus said. “I’ll just smell sweet for the rest of the day.”

Scorpius laughed. His laugh melted quickly into the humid air, each exhale sounding like a new melody around Albus’ increasingly smitten brain. Albus truly thought Scorpius had a magical quality about him, something to explain his desire to just remain in Scorpius’ presence and absorb all the positivity he added to the world. He knew he’d spent hardly any time at all with Scorpius; but, his mind argued, there are certain things in the world you encounter for a mere moment which can stay with you forever. A painting you see in an art gallery or a butterfly with such an intricately beautiful pattern over their wings. Such abnormally mundane events which shouldn’t hold any relevance, but they do. Albus thought Scorpius was a personification of _that_ sensation. He could have passed him in an airport, caught sight of his strikingly blond hair for seconds, and would still be as enamoured as he was sat on that lounger.

“Rather smelling of lemonade than of chlorine,” Scorpius supposed. “Why aren’t you with your siblings?”

“Lily and James?” Albus inquired. They simultaneously glanced at Albus’ siblings, their hands deliberately splashing the other with sharp handfuls of pool water. “They bicker a lot. Not in a mean way. They’re just… typical siblings. I think they got my mum’s sense of humour. It's a lot to deal with all in one go.”

“Ah, yes. Ginny Potter, renowned golfer and prankster.” Scorpius joked.

Albus grinned. “You’d be surprised,” he countered. “My uncles own a joke shop and are pranksters. Or… were pranksters, I guess. She had to prank them back sometimes.”

“Were? I’m sorry to hear that.”

Albus nodded. A sentimental and knowing silence passed between them. “Everyone has a little tragedy in their life.”

“Indeed they do. We’re all a little fragile at heart,” Scorpius agreed. His eyes glanced down at his watch, expression deflating. “I should go. I’m on clubhouse duty in a few minutes. If I’m late I might get a golf club thrown at my face.”

Albus snickered. He held his fist out before Scorpius had the chance to stand up, grinning as he connected their hands together in a bump. “See you around.”

Scorpius mock saluted again, fingertips skimming the sheen of sweat encircling his hairline as he jogged off in the direction of the clubhouse. The moment Scorpius fell from sight Albus stood and ran to the pool, jumping directly in front of his siblings. He revelled in the squeals he elicited from their lips as his jump sent a small tsunami washing over them, drenching James.

“You’re so annoying.” Albus whined, heaving armfuls of water over James’ hair.

“I’m a matchmaker!” James argued, pushing off the side of the pool as he waded to chase Albus through the water. They laughed as they splashed each other, fingertips gliding through the crystal clear water.

“Why would you order towels? You made me look like a fool.” Albus chuckled, paddling forwards to jump on James’ back. His arms clumsily wrapped around James’ shoulders, fingers weakly interlocking as his brother walked him around the circumference of the pool.

James simply shrugged. “You made yourself look like a fool by spilling lemonade everywhere.”

“James!” Lily screeched, ginger hair flying in to view as she rapidly swam over to join her brothers. Her hand eagerly wafted in the direction of their loungers, eyes glued to a figure who sat in the section next to theirs. “The girl is there!”

Albus’ interest spiked. As he swung his head to where their loungers were drips of water flung from the tips of his hair, splattering over the surface of the pool. He felt James heat below him, cheeks tinting as he nervously looked away from that area. “She’s gorgeous, James. You’re definitely punching.”

“Oh my, god. No. Stop right now.” James whined, dropping Albus’ legs so he fell backwards into the water. Albus' choked laughter filtered in to the air between mouthfuls of water, legs kicking as he trailed James’ route to the edge of the pool.

“She looks a lot like–”

“I _know._ ” James bit, arms heaving himself up to the side. His feet idly trailed through the water, ripples cascading wherever he made the pattern.

“Shit, sorry,” Albus apologised. He curled his arms and rested them beside James, choosing to stay underwater mostly so he didn’t overheat as he now sat exposed to the sun. “I didn’t mean to… you know…”

James threw a sympathetic smile in Albus’ direction. “I know, don’t worry. I’m sorry for snapping. When I first saw her I thought it was… her. But when I realised it wasn’t I felt foolish because part of me was disappointed it wasn’t. A lot more happened between her and I than I’ve told any of you and _no,_ I’m not going to tell you now. It was just a lot to think I saw her again. Brought it all back, you know?”

“You’re having a hard time aren’t you?” Albus questioned. It wasn’t really a question for he definitely knew the answer, and James’ sad nodding head resonated all the words he couldn’t bring himself to speak. “Want to head back to the room and grab some lunch?”

 

One of the perks of reserving the finest guest suite in the whole Club, Albus thought, had to be the technology they were provided with. Most specifically the game consoles arranged below the television. The most recent games lined up along the bookcase, below the shelf littered with the Bible and other cheesy romance novels a businessman’s wife would devour in seconds. He and James had spent countless evenings playing the games, legs kicked up on the coffee table and cups of juice accompanying them on their sides. When the air conditioning had been on high for the entire day and the balcony doors swung open to invite inklings of heat in to the room, sitting there playing games while his sister napped beside him felt like the perfect way to spend an afternoon.

He and James were playing FIFA. Admittedly Albus had no idea how to play the game, but watching James win and witnessing the happiness sink back in to his face after a rather tense morning of conversation made up for Albus’ cluelessness. The siblings had returned from the pool after Lily finished her demand of ten more laps, hair dripping as they each showered in their rooms. Albus had taken responsibility for their towels, having been the first to emerge from the bathrooms, and had hung them over the balcony railing to dry among the impending afternoon heat. He dumped their swimming gear in the washing machine, haphazardly adjusting the settings to what he hoped would wash the gear to a satisfactory degree. While Lily and James dried and dressed in loose, clean clothes Albus set up a blanket for Lily and the console for the boys, filling cups with squash for them to cheerily sip at until their parents returned.

“Yes!” James yelled, legs kicking in to the air as one of his players sent the ball streamlining to the back of the net. His hands flew upwards in a mild celebration, tongue hanging from his mouth as he turned to look at Albus. “You’re so bad at this game.”

“I know! And shush, or you might wake up the sleeping devil.” Albus teasingly scolded, gesturing in the direction of Lily. Her pale fingertips peeked over the top of the blanket she had pulled up to her chin, eyes closed as she lay elegantly sleeping. She had pulled her damp hair into a pony-tail, the moisture of which now lingering on the pillows underneath her peaceful head.

As James went to retort the door to the suite opened, their parents tumbling in over harsh words being cast between the two of them. Albus paused the game, giving James a hesitant glance as Harry and Ginny wandered in to the living area. Harry’s hands rubbed contemplative circles in to his temples, eyes shut in what appeared like agitation. Ginny’s hands, however, crossed over his chest, stare burning through the back of Harry’s head.

“You’re overreacting, Gin.” Harry muttered. Albus realised then that his parents clearly hadn’t seen the kids, instead so distracted by their argument that they didn’t have the opportunity to take in the surroundings properly.

“Am I?” Ginny retorted. Her eyes burned disappointment, teeth gritting between her closed lips as she preyed on Harry. “I don’t think I’m overreacting at all.”

“It’s my job, love. I’m bringing in money to provide for our children.” Harry replied.

Ginny scoffed. “That’s not an excuse, Harry. We aren’t struggling for cash, are we? Just admit that you’re doing a _horrible_ thing and you’re too proud of your reputation to back down.”

“But that’s not true,” Harry raised the stakes slightly, turning on his heel to reciprocate the intense stare his wife had been pestering him with. “It’s my career and my reputation. I’m not too proud of anything. I was asked to take the case and I said yes.”

“The fact that plenty of lawyers refused the case before you says a lot.”

Harry paused. “What are you implying, Ginny?”

At that moment Ginny looked past her husband to take in the sight of her sons staring curiously at them. “You know what I’m implying, Harry. You’re making a mistake. If you go through with this you’ll damage your reputation more than if you cut ties now,” her voice lowered as she warned her husband, face lighting with joy as she brushed past him to Albus and James. “Hi, my loves. How’s your day been?”

They stared back at her in knowing disapproval. Ginny knew they weren’t about to let the situation brush under the carpet and be forgotten, her sons were far too intuitive to glaze over something so serious. “I’ll tell you later.” She murmured, fingertips sifting through Lily’s hair as she bent over the couch and tucked the blanket around her sides.

“Been at the pool, then?” Harry entered the conversation. His hand gestured out to the balcony where their towels lay, drying crisp and stiff among the warm breeze licking the air. He rubbed his palms together, the circular motion appearing hesitant and tense as he looked between his children.

James answered; His fingers flicked the television off, head nodding as he turned to reply to his dad. “We spent the morning down there. Ordered some lunch, swam a bit, talked a bit. Lils said she was tired so we came back and have been up here since,” he started. “How were your meals?”

Ginny’s lips pursed. His fingers paused in Lily’s hair, withdrawing as they plummeted in to her pockets. Harry, on the other hand, straightened his posture and stared directly at James. The difference in their posture spoke volume about their views on the meals, Albus thought. “They were fine.” Came Harry’s simple answer. Despite his budding confidence he seemed reluctant to discuss the details of their breakfast and lunch, perhaps due to the fact that Ginny stared him down with growing agitation with every breath he took.

“Pretentious lawyers being pretentious, as always.” Ginny added.

“Is that necessary, Gin?” Harry asked. The inclusion of the nickname oozed authority, almost as if he dared Ginny to discuss the situation any further with the children. Albus knew the only time his parents argued was when they both felt extremely passionately about opposing sides of an argument. They both had determination and desire to be right and to stand up for what _they_ considered the correct decision. The only other time Albus had seen his parents seriously argue had been over James’ decision to not apply to university which, as Albus thought over it, seemed incredibly relevant to their situation at the moment. While Ginny remained adamant that James would benefit by taking a year away and refreshing his mind – clearly hoping he would reignite his love for tennis – Harry had insisted he either reconsider or apply for jobs as that would help him in the long run. While no malevolence rooted in their argument it had come as a dismal surprise for Albus to see his usually smitten parents disagree. On that fact alone he became concerned immediately over what happened at their luncheon.

“I’m going to go shower,” Ginny changed the topic of conversation. “When I get back I claim the television. There’s a PGA Major on right now and I’m not missing any more of it.”

The boys in the living room stayed in silence until they heard the door shut and shower begin to rain water. James and Albus simultaneously looked to their dad; Harry’s fingers tugged carelessly through his hair as he sat on the chair opposite Lily, leaving her to sleep for a little while longer. He pulled the top buttons of his shirt apart, fanning a newspaper lightly over his face to cool the colour which had sprayed over his cheeks. Every deep exhale he released seemed painful, like he had been cooping emotions inside him since he woke up and now, alone, he could allow them to materialise through his breathing.

“Do you want a drink, dad?” Albus asked, fingers already reaching to pour his dad a glass of water. He tipped a few of the ice cubes in to the cup as well, maximising the low temperature for Harry who clearly needed something chilly in his body.

“Thanks, Al,” Harry sighed, throat grateful for the icy liquid that smothered his insides and bloomed like snowflakes over his skin. “It’s been hot today, hasn’t it?”

“Are you just going to pretend like you and mum didn’t just divorce through your eye contact?” James asked. The inkling of humour in his question eased any tension it had the potential to produce, the gentle smile flickering on their dad’s cheeks a suggestion of his weakening anger.

“It’s just adult things, James. Couples argue, they also make up. Once she’s showered and drunk some water your mum will be fine.” Harry explained.

Albus drew his eyebrows together. “You’re acting like this is a simple misunderstanding over who forgot to buy fresh milk. It’s clearly sort of serious, dad.” He frowned, fingers nervously fiddling with the tassels on his cushion.

“It’s not a big deal, Al. Trust me. It’s work things.”

“Like a case?” James interrupted.

“I’m not talking about this with you two.” Harry replied.

“Why?” They both questioned.

Harry eyed them both over the rim of his glasses. “It doesn’t concern either of you. This conversation is done,” he concluded, casting an apologetic glance their way. “I love you both. And I’m sorry I can’t tell you _yet_. It’s just a very important work thing and, anyway, we’re on vacation. Work shouldn’t be an important factor.”

The boys both nodded. James pushed himself off the couch and slumbered into their bedroom, his feet sadly dragging over the carpet as the door shut behind him. Albus looked over at his dad; Harry’s eyes dejectedly trailed James as he exited the room, chin lifting upwards to allow him to stare at the ceiling. His heavy breathing returned, fingers idly twisting the wedding ring on his finger as he delved deep in to thought. So far, Albus thought, this trip seemed to be turning in to a [cruel summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9ml3nyww80).

 

Later in the day, the sun now set and the sweet tones of music from the dining room drifting in through the open balcony doors, Ginny had ordered food to their room. She deeply refused to attend a formal meal downstairs, insisting her legs were too sore and energy drained from her day of small talk and fake happiness. So the Potter’s had tucked in to a movie night, slices of extortionately over-priced pizza resting on their plates. Albus weakly paid attention to the film on the screen, something to do with an assassin and a daughter, but found his mind drifting to the outside. His eyes longingly gazed out the balcony doors, painting imaginary lines between the scattered stars as he imagined the cool summer breeze tickling his ankles.

(Albus lasted twenty more minutes before declaring he needed to go on a walk.)

Alone with only the sound of his flip-flops slapping against the paved floor Albus wandered around the outskirts of the Club’s main building. His fingertips delved deep in to his short pockets while he absent-mindedly drifted from pathway to pathway, looping over the golf course and pausing by the tennis courts to catch his breath.

In the distance he heard gentle splashes of water, most likely sounding from the pool. The sound confused Albus; with a glance to his watch he noted the time as eight in the evening and, as had been standard since the Club had been founded, the pool closed to members at half six. Albus’ curiosity spurred him on towards the pool, imagination running wild with images of loose tigers or stray dogs splashing in the shallows after breaking in through a fallen fence. Or there could be teens, local rascals who humoured in breaking the law and leaving a mess behind. Albus would therefore admit he felt incredibly disappointed as he approached the pool to see workers sifting nets through the surface to clear out insects and leaves which had littered there during the day.

However, Albus would also admit the disappointment faded the moment he caught sight of a blond head bobbing up from behind a sun lounger. Scorpius’ fingertips wrapped around a broom, arms idly brushing up wrappers and empty bottles in to a tray to his right side. His cheeks, from this distance, looked a little rosy, sleeves rolled up to much past his elbows as he cleaned. The workers, Albus counted four of them, paused every now and again to dissolve in to ripples of laughter, using humour as a light to guide them through the mundane task of _cleaning._ Albus couldn’t think of anything he’d hate to be doing more than cleaning.

So why he went over with a smile on his face to help clean, Albus couldn’t tell you.

“Hey.” He said, face positively beaming as Scorpius met his gaze and reciprocated the joy.

“Albus, hi!” Scorpius radiated happiness. He paused his sweeping to jog over to Albus, just avoiding a messy slip as he skidded over a wet leaf by the side of the pool. His fingers carded through his fringe, brushing it back like he wanted to open his entire face to Albus. “What are you doing here? I’m pretty sure members aren’t supposed to be on this property in the evening.”

Albus shrugged. “I went on a walk and got carried away. But now I’m here, can I help?” He asked. On cue, directed from an invisible script for the cheesy Rom-Com Albus’ life seemed to be becoming, the rest of the workers scattered. In a comedic style they disappeared in a cloud of dust, nets discarded as they cleared the space to allow Albus and Scorpius to talk alone. “They’re weird.” Albus muttered.

He looked to Scorpius, taken aback by the bright colour deepening over the blond boys cheeks. “And incredibly annoying.”

“One of them was Aubrey, right?” Albus asked. He lifted one of the nets from the ground after separating from Scorpius, aimlessly dragging it through the water.

“How do you know Aubrey?” Scorpius asked rather than answering Albus’ question. He must have realised he had jumped the gun, recoiling with an exaggerated swirling of his hands in the air. “Sorry. Yes, Aubrey. She’s wonderful.”

“I know all the workers. I told you that, didn’t I?”

“Of course you did, yes,” Scorpius verified, following Albus around with a bag for him to empty the pool mess in to. “She’s acting... funny recently. She’s great, but being weird.”

Albus smiled. “How’s your day been? Did you make it to the clubhouse on time?” He asked, eyes tracing the spiralling path he directed the net through.

“I did, just about,” Scorpius’ volume decreased. Now it was just the two of them their conversation seemed sacred, like every word they shared had to be contained to only them. Lower volumes stopped their utterances from echoing in the evening, bouncing off the pool walls and fluttering in to the air. “How about you? Did you enjoy the pool?”

“It’s good you got there on time. Golfers get annoyed if they’re even a minute late for their tee time. Shame you didn't get that club to the head, or something else like that,” Albus smiled, kneeling down to pick up discarded crisp wrappers and drink bottles. “It was… okay, I guess? The pool was great and spending time with James and Lils felt good. Just getting back to the room… my parents were having some sort of argument so everything is a little awkward.”

“Ah…” Scorpius murmured. “Is that why you went for a walk?”

“Yeah,” replied Albus. He allowed a hesitant chuckle to slip between his lips, fingers nervously ruffling up his hair again. “They were doing that annoying parent thing where they argue but try to make it out as if everything is fine. They put on a movie and tried to play happy-fun-family-evening. I wasn’t having any of it.” He laughed, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

It worked, seemingly, as Scorpius smiled. “I can only remember one fight my parents had. It was like… my grandad’s birthday, I’m pretty sure. And we were throwing this party for him, my family used to go very over the top for these events. My mum took charge and gave my dad one job which was to pick up paper cups from the pound store. Literally just some paper cups,” Scorpius started. Albus watched in admiration as his hands folded through the air to illustrate his points, fingers outlining a circle to suggest the paper cups in question. “Anyway, cut to the day of the party. Everyone is here, right. My grandparents’ wealthy friends, my mum’s family and everything like that. Mum comes up to my dad like, where are the cups? And his face just _drains_ of colour. So my mum starts yelling saying she has no idea how he’s so successful when he’s as forgetful as a goldfish. Everyone had to drink out of shot glasses from their wedding cutlery. It was a mess.”

Albus grinned, shaking his head in humoured disbelief. “Sounds like something my dad would do. Also sounds like such a _parent_ thing to argue about. Forgetting paper cups clearly isn’t the end of the world but in the moment they go off as if the other has murdered a child,” he chuckled. “Also… pound store? Do you mean dollar store?”

“Oh, no. I used to live in London. My dad moved out here after my mum… well… after my mum died. Something about a fresh start. Sold a lot of what we owned and basically began a clean slate out here. He went through a rough time.” Scorpius explained. The ends to his sentences cracked as he explained the situation, the emotion surrounding his mum’s fate materialising in the frown that pinched the corner of his lips.

“That sounds [rough](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjXsIP7wYHcAhXP2aQKHfrFCJ0QyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DXZVpR3Pk-r8&usg=AOvVaw0lSrNr-q17C5dj5Lwcsoi2).” Albus murmured.

Scorpius nodded. “But the world goes on.”

“My mum went through a… thing when her dad died.” Albus started. He couldn’t recall how their conversation had become so deep or when exactly they began trusting each other with this sort of information – he didn’t even know Scorpius’ _surname_ , for Merlin's sake. But here they were; they’d taken rest on two of the loungers, legs crossed as they looked at each other through the darkness. Their net and bag and brush lay discarded beside them, causing more of a mess than had been there before they began tidying. It felt strangely intimate: sitting this close to someone (close enough he could feel Scorpius’ breath ghosting over his cheeks) whispering secrets about their familial situations to each other among the rustling trees and gently lapping movement of the pool.

“Yeah?” Scorpius urged.

Albus nodded, swallowing thickly as he reached deep in to his heart to recount the months of emotion and disarray Ginny went through following her dad’s death. “It was in December. My mum has a huge family – like, _huge_. She’s the only daughter in the mix of a billion sons. And she’s already lost one of her brothers to a knife crime incident. But that was before I was born,” he started, words tumbling a little as he sped through the events. “It was coming up to Christmas. We were staying at her parent’s house like we do every year and it was no secret her dad, my grandpa, had been sick for a while. He was getting old and frustrated with himself because he’s always been active, you know? And sickness stopped him from being active. So he’d been going through a lot and about a week before Christmas it just… happened. All I really remember from the day was being shoved in a bedroom with all my cousins and siblings while they dealt with it downstairs.”

“I’m sorry.” Scorpius quietly interrupted. His face had drawn in to the epitome of sorrow and sadness. Albus imagined his retelling had dragged Scorpius back to the days of his suffering, the dejection swelling in his eyes a clear indicator of the sympathy he held for Albus at that moment.

Albus’ reply came in a simple smile. “Yeah, uhm… anyway. My mum went through a lot after that. She pulled out of work for grief, obviously, and stayed with my grandma for a long, long time. The rest of us went home but she couldn’t really accept it? She was just, like, in so much pain. And it’s horrible. Seeing someone you love in pain and not being able to do anything. I don’t think she’s ever been the same since, really. She’s my mum and I love her but there’s just something that this sort of loss does to a person.”

“I get that… my dad has never been the same. It’s as if he’s only eight percent switched on when he wakes up every day. Even though it’s been a while he sometimes still makes three cups of coffee in the morning instead of two and then beats himself up over it when he realises his mistake. It’s a never-ending cycle of sort of getting over it but then being pulled right back to the heart of the pain. I would never wish it upon anyone.” Scorpius explained.

They sat in contemplative silence after that. Their conversation had left them in a bubble, just the two of them tossing their thoughts over their head as the world progressed around them. Voices occasionally ghosted through the air, planes flying overhead with their blinking lights. But the two boys just sat. Scorpius’ knee bounced, pace quickening as his eyebrows drew and he appeared to delve deeper into the abyss of his mind. Albus watched him with increasing interest; Scorpius’ fingertips flirted with the neckline to his work uniform, the pads rubbing the thin material as he finally looked up to meet Albus’ eyes again.

“You’re really great.” Albus commented.

Scorpius looked taken aback. His eyes momentarily widened and a sliver of his teeth could be seen under the light of the moon and stars as he smiled. “You’re pretty good yourself, too,” he replied. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have a family breakfast in the morning, which should be _great_ ,” Albus chuckled. “After that I think my brother, sister and I are going to play tennis? It’s been like, two days and we’ve already run out of things to do. There’s only so many times you can go to the pool or sit in a suite, you know?”

“Haven’t you been coming here for years? How did you fill the time before?” Scorpius inquired.

“When I was younger we’d spend every single day at the poolside. My siblings and I are dolphins born in the wrong species, so. Before my dad got so boring we sometimes used to go out to California as well. Then something happened and he wanted to spend every second in the Club. I think they raised membership fees or something because he banned us from stepping a foot off the property.” Albus joked.

Scorpius grinned in response. “Got to make the most of the overpriced sub-par amenities after all.”

“You know it,” Albus smiled, holding out his fist for Scorpius to bump. “Why d’you ask? Like, why do you care what I’m doing tomorrow?”

“So I can work wherever you’re going to be. You make my days less mundane. There’s only so many conversations about wine I can have with housewives before I want to choke myself on a cork.” Scorpius shrugged, joining their balled up hands for a split second. Albus erupted in to giggles, blasts of air falling like harmonious lava from him.

“Makes sense,” Albus shrugged, glancing down at his watch. “So tennis courts. I’ll be there all day probably. I’m the family umpire, because I hate sport. Come join me on the side lines. We can be outcasts together.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I should go,” Albus declared after another moment of silence. The darker the sky turned and the more alcohol he could smell in the air told Albus it was getting far too late for him to be out. The walk that he only intended to last ten minutes had spread over a good hour and a half, most of it spent ogling at the person he thought to be the greatest thing since sliced bread. Albus wished he had Scorpius’ voice on tape, in the least creepy way, so he could replay it over and over and retain the burst of happiness he felt while spending time with him. “The movie has probably ended and my parents might think I’ve drowned.”

“Of course. I’m sorry I kept you.” Scorpius rushed to stand up, picking up their rejected cleaning equipment that lay in a puddle of pool water that had leaked from the nets.

“You didn’t keep me, honestly. Whoever thought _cleaning_ could be so fun.” Albus joked, adding sly air quotations when he spoke the word cleaning. They were both aware that despite having double the help the pool was definitely not as clean as it should have been. There were stray leaves floating about, some with frogs lounging on top of them as they croaked in to the late night air.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning.” Albus repeated, joining Scorpius in his idiosyncratic mock salute before trudging off along the path back to the suite. As he walked, accompanied again by the lonely sound of his flip-flops, Albus really struggled to hold a straight train of thought which didn’t include Scorpius. He had an aura about him, something completely mesmerising that prevented Albus from forgetting him for even a split second. It felt like he’d been [poisoned](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjYnqW_wYHcAhXBsaQKHaUpB-cQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DQq4j1LtCdww&usg=AOvVaw213gxSsh73j25JJuoWH-ud), that Scorpius became a personification of liquor that had him addicted from the smallest dose of his presence.

Albus had to remind himself that he was only sixteen and that it was definitely just idle adoration and puppy love that had suffocated his bloodstream. For every second that he spent reminiscing about the contours of Scorpius’ face he knew there would be ten times the amount dealing with his sorrow as he returned home after summer. He refused to let himself get too attached; Scorpius was a puppy in an adoption shelter which Albus knew he was falling in love with but, at the same time, couldn’t bring home with him. His stay at the Club became a visit to the shelter, the inevitability of the exit without a cute puppy – Scorpius, his mind reminded him – tainting all positive thoughts he had.

As he reached the door to the family suite Albus paused. He knew he needed to control himself, contain the rapidly deepening emotions he felt every time he crossed paths with the unfairly sweet and irresistible blond boy. The cooling sensation as Albus twisted the door-knob to enter the suite brought him back down to earth. Albus knew it was only temporary, though. The moment he walked on to the tennis courts tomorrow Albus knew he’d fall head over heels all over again. And, if he were being honest, Albus truly could not wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: scorpiusmlafoy


	5. sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when you bury the pain you only strengthen its roots.  
> \- beau taplin, 'sunlight'

The world seemed to be on Albus’ side as the Potter’s trudged down to breakfast the following morning. Despite the bags under his eyes from his late night rendezvous and a constellation of bug bites rising over his skin, Albus felt like the higher forces wanted him to have a good day. For starters the family had risen seemingly forgetting all of the tension from the day before, with his parents sleepily exchanging utterances of love over a cup of coffee and Lily and James actually getting along for once. Then when they arrived at their table for breakfast the waiter announced that they were finally serving crepes again and Albus physically _beamed_. Though he wasn’t a fan of American breakfast foods in their entirety, he would admit to being impartial to a few crepes every now and again. When they arrived the Club seemed to have discontinued from them their menu so Albus would gladly admit his delight at their unexpected return.

After the two intense positives outlining his morning Albus didn’t think his day could have got off to a better start. He had his favourite food and an array of toppings scattered around him and his finally reconstructed family, the warming sun dancing over his back as it rained in from the open doors to the golf course. For the first time in the entire week Albus felt relaxed, entirely tranquil in his situation and surprisingly happy for it being eight in the morning. Then he looked up from his plate, finding himself blinded as he accidentally looked directly at the [sun](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwixtrD764rcAhVSmbQKHXIGAT4QyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DP-WP6POdTgY&usg=AOvVaw14J3luD0VtzJpgtwXAwebG).

Because, of course, there Scorpius was scuttling between tables and meandering through the masses of members sipping at coffee and scratching their knives over their plates. His fingertips wobbled as he piled one too many plates on to his stack, eyes widening momentarily as he regained his balance and plodded off to kitchen. As he went to back in to the room Scorpius' head surveyed the dining area, eyes _lighting_ as he caught a second of Albus’ face. Albus tipped his head in response, grinning as Scorpius lingered a moment longer before disappearing out of view in to the kitchen.

“Al,” Lily’s voice coaxed him back to reality. Her fingertips grabbed in his direction, eyes staring at the pitcher of juice in front of him. “Pass the orange juice, please?”

“Course.” Albus smiled, clearing his throat as he returned to their conversation and carefully handed her the pitcher.

Over sips from his third cup of coffee of the day Harry spoke up, “what were you looking at, Al?”

“Yeah, Al,” James interrupted, eyes glinting a mischievous light as he stared his brother down. “Who, sorry… what were you looking at?”

“I hate you, James,” Albus muttered, kicking him in the shin under the table. “Nothing, dad. A waitress brought out this really funky looking coffee and it caught my attention.”

Harry nodded, content with the answer from Albus, while James’ eyes rolled. He loaded a teaspoon with a sugar cube, using it as a slingshot to toss the cube at Albus’ face. “You’re a loser.”

“So,” Ginny interrupted, drawing a fine line underneath James and Albus' conversation. “What have you kids got planned for the day?” She asked, top lip covered by a milky moustache.

“Tennis!” Albus declared, a little too optimistically. James’ eyes darkened in confusion as he looked to Albus following his answer, uncertainty clouding his vision as to why his brother was so interested that they were going to play sport.

Ginny grinned, a wide and wonderful grin laced with joy and contentment as she looked between her children. Her expression differed greatly from the frown she had been wearing all day, eyes now lit with optimism while she stared at James. “That’s _wonderful_ ,” she answered. “Just remember to look after yourselves. Water and sun cream as always.”

“Of course.” Albus smiled, eagerly ignoring the gaze James had been giving him along with the insistent kicks he was getting to his shin. As he went to turn and tell James he was hurting him someone arrived at the table, a figure in relatively formal wear, resting their arms on the back of Lily’s chair. Albus recognised him immediately as Theodore Nott, someone who apparently seemed to be stalking the Potter family this summer.

He had a rather sinister smirk spread over his face as his fingertips drummed the back of Lily’s chair and eyes planted right on Harry’s face. Nott smelt a little of tobacco mixed with vanilla, musky to the point where Albus couldn’t tell if it was a cologne scent or if he were a heavy smoker. His presence immediately unsettled the table, even more so as Albus noted the expressions of disdain and annoyance that appeared on his parents faces. Ginny’s eyes darkened again as she resumed the frown that had haunted her the entire day before and Harry’s forehead wrinkled in minor disgust as they looked at Nott.

“Good morning, Potter family,” Nott started, attempting to be polite as he nodded to everyone around the table. “Harry, how did you find yesterday?”

“It was okay.” Came Harry’s monotonously simple reply.

Nott frowned. “Only okay? How could it have been better?" He asked.

“Your firm are full of disgraceful men,” Ginny interrupted. “Perhaps don’t bring them next time.”

Nott appeared sarcastically taken aback, hand planting over his chest as he feigned upset. “It pains me to hear that. But it is… ironic that you call my employees disgraceful men given who is sitting at this table.”

Albus noted the tone around the table shifting a scary amount. “How do you mean?” Ginny dared to ask, fingertips whitening as she tightened her grip of her coffee cup.

Nott grinned. “Isn’t your husband taking up _the_ case? Defending the man who nobody wants to defend?”

“This isn’t a conversation for the breakfast table.” Harry snapped, table clattering as he stood up from his chair, eyes burning in to Nott’s antagonistic glare.

“Your children don’t know? Why?” Nott persevered. “Oh, of course. Because they’ll disown you as a father if they find out what you’re doing behind closed doors.”

“That’s enough, Nott,” Ginny ended, hand beckoning her husband to sit down again. Albus glanced to James and Lily; James’ gaze hadn’t faltered from their father, eyes curious of his every reaction while Lily constantly switched from speaker to speaker. “You aren’t wanted here and you will not bring this up in front of my children. You should just go back to your wife, I think. Unless, of course, she’s still seeing that younger man?”

Nott’s lip drew into a stiff line and Albus knew the conversation had concluded. He patronisingly smoothed his fingertips over his shirt, casting one last uncertain glance at everyone around the table before sauntering out of the dining room entirely. A layer of tension remained over the family, though, with both of Albus’ parents refusing to make eye contact with each other.

Albus glanced around at the plates on the table; Lily and James had finished their meals, both now idly sipping on their drinks to pass the time. As much as Albus wanted to finish his meal, he was eating his favourite food after all, he knew the three of them needed to leave the table immediately. Albus downed his juice, messily swiping his thumb over the excess spilling over his lips.

“Tennis?” He suggested. It took the three of them all of ten seconds to nod and dash from the dining room, leaving their parents to rest in their uneasy silence.

 

The moment the Potter siblings step foot on to the tennis courts everything brightened up again. Apart from the exposed [sun](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwi_17qm8IrcAhWRb1AKHQ4iCh4QyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DiPUmE-tne5U&usg=AOvVaw38Gugt0PsN6kq3eh-epbRe) lighting their way to a blinding degree all three of them felt their moods rise in each other’s presence. James especially beamed as he grabbed a racket, instinctively hitting balls down on to the clay floor as they took a court for themselves. Albus had pre-packed his rucksack full of water, sun cream and a book for him to read, seemingly taking the role of guardian for their day of sport. Between sets and games of tennis – most of which being won by James, the former protégé – the three of them sat underneath an umbrella, protected under the shade as they sipped at water and chatted in whispers.

“Are mum and dad going to be okay?” Lily asked, eyes painted the picture of sadness as she unscrewed the cap to a fresh bottle of water. Her nails had been painted a bright neon orange when they arrived, to match the colour of the sun as Lily had explained, but now they stood chipped. The layers lay jagged from where she had picked and fidgeted through nerves following their parents’ issues. He’d watched her earlier, picking and pulling to preoccupy her mind from the snapping sounds that had cast a dark shadow over their family breakfast.

Albus and James looked nervously to each other. They both wanted to say yes, of course, explaining that the hot weather and the presence of someone as unwelcome as Nott were all causing their parents to bicker a little more than usual. But neither of them knew whether that was the case. Any tension between Harry and Ginny used to be resolved in seconds, a quiet conversation over a glass of water or during a small walk around their neighbourhood. But here, constantly surrounded by rich businessmen all wanting to get an ear in to their conversation, there was nowhere for these issues to be resolved.

“They should be. There’s just a lot of pressure out here, that’s all.” James explained. As much as he liked to present himself as bubbly and always trying to be a little bit of a rebel, when the time came James would be the first to step up and take charge in a serious time. He would do anything for his siblings, Albus had learned. Even if they didn’t see eye to eye every waking day there was always something tying them down to each other, keeping them grounded in an environment made for hot-headed lawyers and socialites.

Lily nodded, a little sad around her eyes as she squinted in to her bottle of water. She was approaching the Confusing Age, as Albus had penned it. Approaching the peak of the teenage hill where suddenly every serious event makes sense to you. She’d already surpassed the revelations of Santa and the Easter Bunny – not that Lily was ever keen on the idea of a giant rabbit breaking in to their house – but the Confusing Age would be much worse. The Confusing Age would help Lily understand why Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey don’t come to stay together anymore and why Uncle George has to go and see a therapist every now and again. All the little pieces of their huge family puzzle which suddenly make sense, joining the lines of narrative Lily had been told bits and pieces of in the past but had never heard the climactic plot point. Albus sympathised with her and how painful some of the realisations would become. But this was Lily, artistic and energy-filled Lily who never seemed to falter at any hurdle. Lily would be fine, Albus thought, and if things got a little difficult they’d come back together as a trio to help her through it all.

“What did that guy mean when he said we’d disown dad as a father if we found out what he’s doing?” Lily continued.

Albus and James nervously glanced at each other, Albus’ bottom lip drawing in under his teeth as he anxiously bit down on it. “I don’t know, Lils. I think he was just being annoying. Trying to get a reaction out of dad.”

“We’d never disown him. At least I wouldn’t, I don’t know about you two,” Albus chuckled in response to Lily’s comment, leaning over to gently ruffle her hair. “I’m being serious. You three argue all the time. You argued with him and then flew to Australia, James.”

“I didn’t do that because we’d argued! You know I took a gap year.” James retorted.

Lily’s eyes rolled. “A gap year because you were annoyed dad kept arguing with you over university. I’m not deaf, James. I do hear when you yell at each other.”

“I wouldn’t disown him though. Teenagers argue with their parents, wait until you turn eighteen. It happens,” James explained, twirling his racket between his fingers. “I wouldn’t disown him. I love dad.”

“Me too.” Albus added on.

“Me three.” Lily finished. They sat in silence for a few minutes after that, Albus helping Lily rub sun cream to her shoulders where she couldn’t reach, until the two of them jogged back out to the court.

Albus remained under the umbrella, tugging out his journal instead of resuming the book he’d brought with him. There were just a lot of words buzzing in his mind, words that he needed to get down on paper before they enveloped him entirely and burst out vocally, something he wasn’t a fan of. He flipped aimlessly to the page he’d begun writing on the other day, where the two words still stared defiantly back at him, and tapped the end of his pen on the empty space. This was his main problem as a writer, Albus thought, having so much to say to the point where he couldn’t express it all. Inspiration and themes and thoughts would suffocate his mind, seemingly removing all his literary skills to leave him a bundle of want with no substance to qualify his talent.

“Blue and fragile.”

Albus choked. A legitimate choke on the water he’d been swilling in his mouth, small droplets spluttering from between his lips as he _slammed_ his journal shut and looked to the source of the voice. He mustn’t have heard Scorpius arrive, mind and eyes too focused on his desire to write to notice the footsteps which had approached him. Scorpius sat beside him, legs pulled up so his chin rested on his knees as he looked at Albus, curiosity colouring his face.

“Oh god, I didn’t hear you come. You scared me.” Albus chuckled, attempting to sneakily slide his journal back in his rucksack. His noticed Scorpius’ wandering eyes following his movement, head tilting to the side as he looked back to Albus.

“Was that your poetry?” He asked, clearly cutting to the chase.

“Yeah,” Albus shrugged, shifting his body under the umbrella so Scorpius could be completely covered. At the moment there came a fine line down the centre of his face, one half covered and the other half bright from the sun. Aside from the obvious repercussion of blindness from looking in the sun, Albus didn’t think Scorpius would particularly enjoy risking tanning only one side of his face. “Not very good, as I told you. There’s just a lot happening at the moment, which basically means I have a lot to write about.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to do what you do.”

Albus paused, drawing his eyebrows together. “Come again?”

Scorpius readjusted himself, fingertips picking at a loose thread on the cuffs of his trousers. “I couldn’t be so open about my emotions,” he explained. “Everything you write is like taking a little bit of your heart and showing it off to the world. It’s pretty cool and brave. I don’t think I could do it. Letting that many people in to what’s occurring in your life.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I’ve never really thought about it that way. Nobody else really reads the stuff I write. I’m not at that point where I’m willing to let people read it yet,” Albus shrugged. “I definitely couldn’t do what you want to do, though. Being a doctor, having people’s life in my hands. That’s way too much pressure.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I just think more about the positives, the idea that I could help someone get better. Watching my mum go through a lot of medical stuff kind of made me want to do it. The doctors did a lot for my dad and me and for some reason I want to give it a try.” Scorpius explained.

“You don’t have to answer if this is a little too personal,” Albus started. “But what did your mum have?”

Scorpius paused. His throat tightened and Albus watched as his fingers entangled, the tips rubbing over a bone on his wrist. “I haven’t been told the whole story. It was a really complex disease and my dad doesn’t still understand the whole thing. It’s something to do with her blood. A blood disease. Apparently it was genetic, so you can kind of understand why I’m reluctant to learn more about it.”

Albus nodded, remaining silent as he glanced out to watch Lily and James as they engaged in a tense rally. Lily leaped from corner to corner of her side as she tried to keep up with James’ exquisitely placed shots. He moved with ease from pace to pace, his swing effortless as he rivalled Lily’s frantic motions. If there was someone who Lily couldn’t out-confident, it was James.

“He’s very good at this, isn’t he?” Scorpius posed, eyes flitting from player to player as they heaved the ball over the net between them.

“He really is. Insanely good. He could have taken it up professionally but… stuff happened.” Albus replied, remaining ambiguous about what actually happened about James and tennis. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Scorpius, he would shamefully admit that he trusted him too much already, Albus just felt that it wasn’t his tale to tell.

“You’re all so interesting,” Scorpius mused. “In a not creepy way, that is. What is Lily interested in?”

“Performing arts,” Albus answered, kneading his fingertips through the clay course beneath him. “She went to see Cats for her fifth birthday, I think, and has wanted to do it since. She goes to a proper academy and everything. It explains her confidence, doesn’t it?”

“It really does. I can see her being really successful in performing arts, actually. She has the face for a stage doesn’t she?”

Albus spluttered on his drink. Again. He’d gone to take a much needed mouthful following his throat drying slightly from how much talking he’d been doing. Not to mention the fact that Scorpius already rendered him pretty useless, causing him to work as a barely functional human being whenever they were around each other and have a great need for water. But, of course, he went to drink just as Scorpius made _that_ comment.

“Oh, God,” Scorpius sat up straight, hand finding Albus’ back to help him through the choking fit. “Are you okay?”

Albus wafted his hand in the air, the other one massaging his Adam’s apple as he attempted to coax his voice back. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Sorry… That, just, came as a surprise,” he lied. “So you have a thing for my sister?”

“What?” It was now Scorpius’ turn to look shocked. His cheeks reddened to a lush cherry colour, his otherwise pale toned skin juxtaposing against the new, warmer colour. “No, I don’t. I really don’t, trust me. That’s not… I wasn’t going for that at all. Definitely don’t.”

“Oh.” Came Albus’ simple reply. He realised then how unusual the two of them must have looked to anyone on the courts. Albus with damp stains on his shirt from where he spat out water and Scorpius with cheeks so red it looked as if someone had rubbed face paint all over him. It was just unfortunate that the only people on the courts were his siblings.

His siblings who were now pottering over with intense curiosity colouring their vision. James in particular had an inkling of mischief tainting his sight as he sat down in front of the two boys, arm wrapping around his little sisters shoulders when she joined them. “Hey.” James grinned.

“Hi.” Albus and Scorpius responded at the same times, catching each other’s sight from the corner of their eyes.

“What’s occurring over here, then?”

“Nothing,” Albus leapt at the opportunity to respond. “Scorpius and I… oh wait, you lot haven’t met each other yet. James, Lils – this is Scorpius.”

“Nice to meet you, Scorpius,” James extended his hand, urging Scorpius to take and shake it. James had a predisposition about people who had bad handshakes, insisting that those who shook weakly were weak on the inside as well. Albus felt slightly nervous as Scorpius took his brothers hand and shook it a few times. However, from the expression on James’ face, the handshake ended up being more than satisfactory. “I’ve heard plenty about you. I’m James.”

“I’ve heard plenty about you, too.” James’ face faltered then, his attempt at embarrassing Albus backfiring following Scorpius’ response.

“Only good things, I hope?” James attempted to regain stature in the conversation, wanting to resume his position as the eldest and therefore most important of the quartet.

Scorpius smiled. “The best.”

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Lily asked, finally entering the conversation. Her eyes didn’t engage as much, though, too preoccupied with the snacks Albus had snuck in to his rucksack before leaving the suite that morning. He’d put a few healthy ones in there, some bananas and other fruits, but Lily had gravitated towards the confectionary packets Albus had hidden at the bottom of his bag.

“I am,” came Scorpius’ response. “I’m managing the courts this morning. And as you can see there aren’t any other people here. So I’m doing my job, technically.”

“You’re clever.” James piped up again.

Scorpius grinned. “I know.”

Albus smiled. He couldn’t help it, really. Watching someone rival his brother’s wit and make him feel ever so slightly on edge in an environment he usually thinks he owns filled Albus with joy. It was no secret to anyone that James liked a little challenge every now and again, making the most of the humour and quickness he inherited from his dad. It only made Albus happier seeing his _potential-forever-love_ turn out to be one of those people who kept James on his toes all the time.

“Why are you smiling, weirdo?” James asked, flicking some flakes of clay from the court in to Albus’ face.

“God, you’re annoying. I’m just having a nice day, that’s all.” Albus answered, lathering his fingertips up with water droplets from the side of his bottle to shake in his brothers face.

Scorpius and Lily snickered at the motion. Albus hadn’t expected this arrangement to feel as normal and _safe_ as it did. He had essentially invited an American stranger to infiltrate their close sibling bond but nobody seemed to mind. If anything, Scorpius fit perfectly in to their triangle. He slotted into the empty space that none of them knew existed, just sitting in the corner as though he’d been there all along. Albus still didn’t know why he cared so much about Scorpius fitting in to this little mix they had going on. At the end of the summer, as his mind liked to remind him, he would be going back home without the cute little blond boy he’d found and it wouldn’t matter at all if he got along with James and Lily.

Summer sucked.

“I wonder if mum and dad are having a nice day.” Lily said, finally looking up from her snacks to gaze at the other three people in her circle. The mood switched instantly. James and Albus looked away from the group, occupying themselves with everything but the sight of their sister. Scorpius’ awkwardness in the midst of the Potter family tension stuck out like an ugly duckling among a lake of swans. He had a small inkling of what had been occurring, courtesy of Albus and his ambiguous comments about parental arguments, but the severity of which he had no knowledge at all.

“You need to stop worrying about it, Lils,” Albus came to her rescue this time, leaning across the small circle to pinch her nose. “They’re going to be fine. It’s just parents being parents. It’s like how Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione argue sometimes over Christmas dinner.”

“Hermione?” Scorpius interrupted.

“Yeah?” Albus’ hesitant question filtered in to the air.

“As in Hermione Granger?”

“Yeah. Our Aunt Hermione.” Lily said.

Scorpius released a long whistle. “Sorry. I – uh… I had no idea your Aunt is the Prime Minister,” he chuckled. “Sorry, continue. I didn’t mean to get in the way of your deep family talk.”

Albus smiled, shaking his head a little in enamour of the [absolute delight](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiF_5asiIvcAhURLlAKHU4VDcIQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D_6FBfAQ-NDE&usg=AOvVaw2g-PgIBi6BLyLLuVAEXSjR) sat next to him. Albus genuinely thought that everything Scorpius did would amaze him, leave him grinning until it almost hurt. He could sneeze, Albus thought, and he would find it the sweetest thing ever. Perhaps he should try and slow down his emotions and attempt to limit the pain he’d feel boarding the plane at the end of August. But then, his heart argued, that wouldn’t be as fun.

“Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron are different, though. They always bicker. Mum and dad aren’t like that.” Lily whined.

“Lily,” James groaned, splashing some water in her face. “You’re being annoying. You’re acting like you’ve never seen them fight before. This happens, they’re adults.”

“How would you know?”

“Are you forgetting that I nearly got hitched last year?” James asked.

“Woah – what?” Albus intercepted. He thought his eyes almost popped out their sockets at James’ declaration. It was a feeling that was clearly paralleled by everyone in the group, even Scorpius as he gazed with confusion at James.

“I know what adult relationships are like. You fight and you fall out but you make up and it’s okay. It happens,” James continued, as if he didn’t hear Albus’ question. “Mum and dad are fine. They will be fine. It’s hot and everyone is uptight. It’s hard to not get agitated with other people when it's thirty odd degrees out and you have people pestering you all day.”

“You’re not getting out of this without telling me about that whole getting hitched thing you just mentioned.” Albus reiterated.

James sighed, looking longingly at his brother as if he were begging him to let up on the conversation. “We should probably go and get some lunch. It’s hot and I’m starving.” He murmured, standing up with a heave and a deep exhale. He packed up the rackets and dropped the tennis balls back in to the canister they came in, looking around at his siblings – and Scorpius – still sat on the floor. After a couple of moments of silence Lily stood up too, leaning in to her brother’s side.

“I’ll come and join you in a minute.” Albus said, heavily implying to his brother that he’d like to be alone for a few more minutes. James seemed to understand, giving Scorpius a little wave as he and Lily left the courts to return the equipment to the main desk.

“That was… fun.” Scorpius chuckled, shuffling around so he sat opposite Albus now that there was more space again. Albus shrugged his shoulders, releasing breaths which ricocheted through his ribcage that he’d been holding in since Lily first mentioned their parents. It had been an intense few minutes, Albus realised, and as the air dispersed into that of calm again he finally felt like he could breathe.

“My family isn’t always this dramatic, I promise. We are usually very calm and friendly. I think the sun is getting to us. It was raining when we left London, we aren't used to this weather.” Albus chuckled, sifting around on the floor to put all of his belongings back in to his bag. There were bottle caps and sweet wrappers lying on the ground, courtesy of Lily, which he refused to leave behind, occasionally glancing to Scorpius in between his domestic motions.

“I’ve clearly tuned in to the very exciting season finale of the Potter show, haven’t I?” Scorpius asked, humour lingering at the end of his question.

“The real question here is are you going to stick around for next year’s premiere?” Albus grinned, dragging his fingers through the ends of his hair.

Scorpius smiled. “Of course I am.”

“Really?” Albus posted, admittedly very excited by the idea of Scorpius sticking around in his life.

“Really.”

 

_u ok?_

Albus pushed the napkin over to James beside him, stuffing the pen in between his brother's thighs. He attempted to appear nonchalant as he snacked on his wrap, nodding in response to some of his mum’s questions and laughing when his dad made an occasional joke. Out of the corner of his eye Albus watched as James scanned the napkin, grabbing the pen as he began scribbling out his reply.

“Did you play any tennis, Al?” Harry asked, aimlessly stirring his lemon and lime drink.

“Huh? Oh, no,” Albus laughed, throwing an out of character, beaming smile to his dad. “I just sat and read.”

“That’s a lie,” Lily frowned. “The nice blond worker came and spoke to you as well.”

“Scorpius?” Ginny asked, face lighting as she matched her daughter’s description to the worker she'd met the other day.

Harry frowned. “Who’s Scorpius?”

Albus felt a nudge to his knee. James lay the napkin and pen on Albus’ thigh, turning back to the conversation the family started having about Scorpius.

_just got a little snappy with lily earlier and feel kinda bad. didn’t mean to be as harsh as I was. do u think she’ll be upset?_

“Scorpius is a lovely worker here. The one who served us breakfast on the first day. He’s Albus’ age. Very kind, very sweet.” Ginny answered, pouring herself a fresh cup of tea.

“Why are you talking to the workers? I’m so confused.” Harry laughed.

Albus’ eyes rolled. “We always talk to the workers, because they’re nice people. He served mum and me lunch when we were golfing and we’ve been talking since. Just keep bumping in to each other, is all.” He explained, waiting for their eyes to leave him so he could write his reply to James.

_nah this is lily we’re talking about. let her win an arm wrestling competition and she’ll be fine. wanna ditch and go talk somewhere?_

Albus pushed the napkin back. James’ reply didn’t take long.

_talk about what?_

Albus rolled his eyes, playfully elbowing his brother in the ribs.

_getting hitched, dickhead._

“Oh, him. Yeah, I know him. He looks like a younger version of someone I went to university with. Really blond hair and blue eyes. Almost identical.” Harry mused, gesturing to his eyes as though his children didn’t know where they were on his face.

“What? Who does he look like?”

“Can I clear your plates?” A waiter appeared at their table, already reaching down to lift their empty bowls. Albus looked in to his lap as James placed the napkin and pen down.

_lol. forgot about that. sure. let’s roll._

“Shoot,” Albus muttered. “I think I left my phone on the tennis courts. Come help me find it, James?” He acted, raising his bag on to his shoulders as he stood up from the table. James blended in the façade easy enough, draining his cup of water as they haphazardly waved at their parents. They scuttled out of the dining hall, weaving through lines of holidaymakers and members all basking in the afternoon sun. They weren’t actually going to the tennis court – Albus didn’t really know where he was taking the two of them, if he was being honest. He just wanted them to be away from the pressures of family and rich members trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Albus? James?”

From a picnic bench just outside the backend of the kitchen Scorpius called to them. He looked midway through a salad (of course he was one of _those_ who ate salads), eyes glazing over sheets of creased paper in front of him.

“Scorpius, hey,” It was James who answered first, fingertips wrapping around Albus’ wrist as he dragged him over to the bench. The wood creaked and curved under the brothers’ weight as they sat down, Scorpius positively beaming as he looked between the two of them. “What are you doing out here?”

“It’s my lunch break. And my dad wrote me a letter, so it’s the perfect time to read it.” Scorpius shrugged, fingers guiding his fork through the green layers on his plate.

“Letters? You and your dad write letters?” Albus asked.

Scorpius nodded. “Yeah. We used to send each other postcards, actually. But he started having a lot more to say and it didn’t fit on a postcard anymore. He thinks written words are more valuable than phone calls. He’s a bit… odd, I guess.”

“No, that’s not odd. That’s really nice, actually.” Albus smiled, watching as Scorpius finished reading the letter. He carefully folded the pages back in to the envelope, using it as a coaster to his drink before looking back up to Albus and James.

“So what are you two doing? What happened to lunch?”

“We came to talk about James’ secret engagement. You can’t really talk about these things in front of your parents and their lawyer friends.” Albus chuckled, relishing the bubbles of laughter that came from James and Scorpius.

“Oh, of course. Your whole almost getting hitched, thing.”

James slowly nodded. His fingertips picked at the wooden planks making up the table, mind awash with all the words he had to say to make the situation understandable. From where Albus sat he swore he could hear James’ mind working, the parts of his brain whirring as he recounted the time in Australia and the making and breaking of his heart. “Almost getting hitched, yeah.”

“So you were engaged?” Scorpius asked, eyes painted with interest as he lazily munched on a lettuce leaf.

“Yeah,” James started. His fingers dove in to his shorts pocket, searching around for his phone. In his pause he unlocked it, tapped a little and swiped over the screen to bring up a photo. Albus recognised it immediately as the girlfriend; her bright hair and light eyes were recognisable from a mile away, but what wasn’t recognisable was the ring on her finger. “I was. I met her in August and we were engaged in December. Shit happened and we broke up in April.”

“I just don’t, like… I don’t understand how you were engaged to this girl but broke up months later. That’s not like you at all, James.” Albus continued, eyes glued to the photo in front of him.

James shrugged. “Love makes you do things.”

“So you were in love with her?” Scorpius asked.

“Of course I was. I wouldn’t have wanted to marry her if I didn’t.”

“When did you propose to her?” Albus continued.

James paused. “I didn’t… technically I didn’t. We were on the beach, right. Australia on the beach and it was all nice and warm and shit like that. And I may have drank a little too much, but that’s not important,” Albus and Scorpius simultaneously groaned at the mention of alcohol. “And we were just talking about love and happiness and she goes, do you see us getting married? So I reply like yeah sure, I think marrying you would be nice. And she replies, well why don’t we do it? So I go, why don’t we do what? She says marriage.”

“For fucks sake, James.” Albus chuckled.

“So we sort of get engaged that way, run to the nearest jewellers and get a ring. Next morning I’m confused but don’t say anything, and we just go about life as if it wasn't weird that we were now engaged.” James finished, shoving his phone back in to his pocket after the two youngsters had finished analysing the photograph.

“That’s so cool.” Scorpius smiled.

The two Potter brothers looked at him in confusion. “What?” Albus asked.

“Oh, come on. Are you trying to tell me you don’t think that’s so cool? He was engaged. Imagine telling that to your kids in the future? Like, back when I was young and a rebel I almost married someone. Do you not think it’s really funky?” Scorpius asked. “Think about it. Sure the ring might’ve cost money but I’m guessing James sold it on so that's not a big deal. You didn’t arrange a wedding so no money was spent and nobody's time wasted. It’s just a cool story about young love and spontaneity for when he’s eighty and his grandkids think he’s boring.”

“Damn, I never thought about it that way.” Albus posed. James grinned beside him, nodding gleefully along to everything Scorpius said.

“I like you a lot, [blondie](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwi_lavfhovcAhXJb1AKHRC2AxoQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Ds__rX_WL100&usg=AOvVaw3SHJHm9qOSW8HjHFA-nAmK). You make me sound like a cool person.” James smiled, reaching over to sneak a piece of cucumber from Scorpius’ salad.

“My parents got engaged when they were young. Just after high school, I think. They called their wedding off a couple of times before they actually tied the knot,” Scorpius commented, finger playing with tab to his can of soda. “I love young love. Any kind of romantic cliché. Sign me up. You met on a gap year and got engaged on a beach. That’s a rom-com in the making.”

And... yeah. Albus died in that moment. He went back to think of all the romantic scenarios he’d dreamed up about Scorpius and really tumbled further in to the rabbit hole of falling head over heels for Scorpius Unknown-Last-Name.

Of course, Albus thought. He still didn’t know Scorpius’ surname.

“What was your girlfriend’s name?” Scorpius asked.

“Indigo,” James answered. “There’s a girl in the Club who looks exactly like her. I think she’s a member’s daughter. Has light blonde hair, was by the pool the other day? She’s gorgeous, exactly like Indigo.”

“Indigo,” Scorpius repeated. “That’s a pretty name… you don’t have to answer if you don’t want. But, like, why did you break up?”

“She changed her mind,” James shrugged. “Woke up one day, said she wasn’t feeling marriage and wanted to move somewhere else in the world. I asked to talk about it after I came home, because I had some charity work to do, and she agreed but when I opened the door she was gone.”

“Yikes.” Both Scorpius and Albus murmured. They shared a humoured glance over the table, accompanied by gentle snickers sounding from James.

“Yeah, I know. I went through a lot.”

The three of them devolved into a giggling mess, bonding over the tragedy that had enveloped James’ life over the last year. Having the situation – the whole situation – out in the open brought them closer together, James and Albus in particular. Albus knew there had always been a wall between him and James since he returned from his gap year, some level of emotion too hidden for either of them to connect beyond. James had isolated himself, removed his heart and soul from most of their conversations and presented himself almost as a shell of his former person. They all knew something had happened in Australia, so knowing the true chronology of the narrative allowed Albus to finally engage more with his brother.

“As much as I’m really enjoying this, my lunch hour is up,” Scorpius sighed. “It’s been fun getting to know you both and being given a behind-the-scenes look at James’ life, but I really need to get to the dining hall before I’m drowned by the manager.”

“See you tomorrow?” Albus asked, voice full of hope. He knew he probably sounded very desperate but, if Albus were honest, he didn’t particularly care. He’d established they’d both gone past normal stranger boundaries and were somehow bonding despite only seeing each other for a fraction of the day. It was nice, though. The impromptu meet ups kept Albus on his feet, looking over his shoulder everyday in case he caught a glimpse of his new blond haired obsession.

“As always.”

And then Scorpius had gone, slipped back in through the open doors and returned to the tedious work of waiting tables for the rest of the day. Albus turned to look at his brother, leaning across to pinch his nose in a teasing manner.

“I love you, James.” Albus smiled.

James grinned, tilting his head to the side. “I love you too, Al. Why are you telling me this now?”

Albus shrugged. “I don’t know. I just felt like saying it,” he smiled. “Isn’t he great?”

James nodded, eyes lingering at the place Scorpius had sat moments before. “He is quite cool, to be fair. He’s nice, sounds kind of smart. I can see why you’re like… completely in love with him.”

“Would you be the best man at our wedding?” Albus asked, feigning severity as he stared at his brother.

James scoffed, eyes rolling through little ripples of laughter. “You’re living in a fantasy, little brother.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“Maybe, I guess? Only if your wedding is in a [super cool location](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiq567-h4vcAhUEJ1AKHdUpBR4QyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DK1b8AhIsSYQ&usg=AOvVaw0Sj3CUBD_fCuUx9OgHt1TI). I have a reputation to uphold.” James shrugged.

“You think I’m going to get married somewhere that isn’t cool? I’m already on the waiting list for the finest palace in Spain, thank you very much.” Albus grinned.

“How are you going to pay for that, then?” James asked. His fingers fought back at Albus’ prodding, gently flicking his brother’s freckles as they rose underneath his sun-kissed skin. They smiled at each other, a gentle and loving smile as they finally tore down the boundaries of the emotional struggle James had been dealing with, alone, for the last few months.

Albus shrugged his shoulders. “Using the money dad gets from the divorce after him and mum split up, as Lily is predicting?”

James _cackled_. His eyes closed in amazement and his forehead landed on Albus’ shoulder as he laughed and laughed and laughed. As Albus thought over the day, the smiles he and Scorpius exchanged and the flickering of hope that blossomed in every aspect of his life, he thought things were going pretty well.

If he forgot the impending sense of finality lurking at the end of the summer and the unusual argument brewing between his parents, Albus would say this summer had started the best of any in recent time. James seemed happier, his spirits lit up again like a fresh bonfire in a forest, and that alone had brightened the vacation before it even started. As Albus sat there, brother laughing on his shoulder and days wide with optimism about his future, he thought there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be than Ivory Falls Country Club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: scorpiusmlafoy


	6. the release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some goodbyes are not ends but releases.  
> \- beau taplin, 'the release'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so so sorry for the delay on this :(( I went on vacation which was fine until I encountered eleven hours of travel delay on the way home. dealing with compensation and stress since then has stopped me from writing for a while. but there's more scorbus in this chapter so hopefully that makes up for it :-)
> 
> also - this is dedicated to the sweet, sweet anon who sent some love my way on tumblr the other day. I hope you're doing well wherever you are, anon, and that your days are getting better <3

Albus’ favourite thing about the Club had to be the view of the horizon from the patio just outside the kitchen. The curvature of the sky could almost be seen from the concrete slabs, the blending colours as the sun set casting a gentle light over the predominantly flat golf course before the [Club](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjZ2uyvsbPcAhVRLVAKHTEnCEoQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DWYX0sjP6Za8&usg=AOvVaw0CeetNJkUeA4WLMzgCQvpo). Under the dwindling evening heat, shirt sleeves fluttering from the gentle breeze whipping through the branches and skimming around his ankles, Albus always felt calm. The sky would transform in to a work of art right before his eyes and he would sit in silence as silhouetted birds flirted with the streaky clouds and wove in and out of their usual triangular alignment.

Often he would sit on the drying grass, fingertips meticulously smoothing through the browning strands as Albus allowed his mind to empty and be filled with nothing but silenced tranquillity. In his world of constantly moving places and frequently intense encounters Albus relished these moments of loneliness; with just him, the sun and the summoning stars Albus felt invincible.

The rest of his day had been spent following his parents around as they forced the family to spend time together. They went on a _walk_ around the grounds, Ginny insisting that the air would clear their minds and allow them to reconnect with the earth, or some other reason like that. Albus would have protested more, but the look of desperation and desire on his mother’s face led him to follow along in their lengthening shadows, feet almost dragging as they outlined the perimeter of the golf course. Harry had then brought them to the poolside for an hours, lounging under the umbrellas as gentle splashes of chlorine-filled water cooled them from the marathon the family had practically completed earlier. An essence of awkwardness lingered as the Potter family pretended that everything was okay and that the current series of events weren’t occurring to solely create a façade of perfection and familial contentment; so, after a short while of sitting in silence, Albus excused himself again.

And his short walk led him to where he sat now: legs crossed as he watched the blue of the day intermingling with the growing darkness of night. When the world wanted him to travel at the speed of light Albus always felt that sitting right here would always bring him back to his speed.

“Are you stalking me?”

That was until, of course, someone interrupted him.

Albus turned ever so slightly, stomach fluttering as he met Scorpius’ grinning face. He had a rag wrapped around his fingertips and the sleeves to his shirt rolled up right to the bend of his arm, face slightly flushed as he stared back at Albus. He looked a _lot_ like Snow White, Albus thought, his pale complexion juxtaposed by his rose-tinted cheeks. Albus could imagine him singing _Whistle While You Work_ as wildlife nestled in his soft hair and danced around his head like a halo.

“Of course I am.” Albus chuckled, hoisting himself up from the ground. He winced as he pulled his hand up, frowning as a small cut leaked tears of blood from his palm. As Albus looked to the ground he saw some shards of glass, the one with the deep red point clearly the criminal who wounded him.

“What are you doing out here?” Scorpius asked, eyes flicking down to Albus’ hand. “Oh, dang. That looks painful. Come here, there’s a first aid kit in the kitchen.” Scorpius coaxed Albus towards him with gentle hand movements and reassuring eye contact, rag flung over his shoulder as he escorted them both in to the kitchen.

The kitchen that, as Albus thought about it, he had never been to before. There were several locations Albus had never seen in the Club despite his frequent visits here, most of which being reserved strictly for staff or managers or _highly_ exclusive members over the age of 21. Being the son of a famous lawyer could get him in to many places, but the staff kitchen and restroom at Ivory Falls Country Club were not among that list. Albus supposed it just looked like a regular kitchen, alas much emptier and cooler than he anticipated.

The chefs mulled around loaves of bread as they aimlessly chattered over knives and empty glasses, their laughter bouncing off the walls and steel tables as they worked. Aprons hung sadly on the rack as most of the workers took a break before the dinner rush, others lounging over sinks as they washed their hands or rested their legs after the earlier two hour lunch service. Albus didn’t know what he expected the kitchen to be like – maybe like that scene from _High School Musical 2_ where they all danced and played music on pans and champagne flutes – but he would admit to being surprised at how calm the interior seemed. Admittedly there were no members to be served in the dining hall at the moment and Albus knew that in about an hour or so when the hall filled again the atmosphere would be much different.

“You look very deep in thought.” Scorpius interrupted Albus’ assessment of the kitchen, patting a space on top of a counter for Albus to sit on.

Albus’ shoulders shrugged, eyes drifting to the wound on his hand instead of the employees who meandered in and out of the kitchen. “I’ve never been in here before. I guess I’m just intrigued.”

“Intrigued by a kitchen?”

“Hey, I had a very sheltered childhood. I only know how to make toast,” Albus chuckled, wincing again as Scorpius swiped a dampened cloth over his palm. He hadn’t a clue what solution Scorpius had drenched the cloth in, all he knew was that it stung a lot. “Ouch, okay. That hurt more than I anticipated.”

“Toast? That’s weak. You should sign up for the cooking classes at the Club. I hear they’re very good quality and very decent value for money.”

“Are you trying to sell me an advert for a cooking class?” Albus asked.

Scorpius paused; he looked directly in to Albus’ eyes, head tilted to the side as he faked being deep in thought. “Yeah.”

Albus chuckled, head shaking in fondness as he watched Scorpius clean his cut. Scorpius’ fingertips gently outlined the cut which perfectly bisected his heart line, almost as if he were reading the fate inscribed in the wrinkles over Albus’ palm. Scorpius’ touch felt warm, almost safe, as he encircled the wound a few more times. He gazed inquisitively and with intense concern at the inflamed skin and the beads of blood that fell from the slit, eyebrows tugging together as he then sifted through the first aid kit for something new.

“So what’s the diagnosis? Am I going to lose my hand?” Albus asked.

Scorpius smiled as he pulled up a gauze and some dressing. “Unfortunately not. It’s not too deep and it shouldn’t get infected. I could get away with just a large plaster but you seem the type to want to get out of activities, like a student trying to get out of PE. So if we wrap up this wound with dressing you can use it as an excuse to not swim or play tennis anymore.”

“You’re such a genius,” Albus grinned, resisting a flinch and a squint of pain as Scorpius finished cleaning the cut and looping the dressing around his hand. “So do I need to clean the dressing every day, or something?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just come find me during my lunch break and I’ll sort it.” Scorpius shrugged, gently patting Albus’ knee as he cleaned up the first aid kit and returned it to the cabinet where it came from.

Albus watched with growing curiosity as Scorpius rose to his tiptoes at the cabinet, fingertips delicately pushing the box to the rightful place. He smoothed his hands over his shirt when he touched the ground again, brushing out any creases from his previous activity. Albus simply rotated his wrist, assessing the bandage from all angles; he knew the moment he joined his family for dinner that he would be bombarded with questions and Albus wasn’t sure he’d be able to escape them with his silence or nonchalance. But, of course, that would be a problem for later.

“Is this my cue to leave?” Albus asked, voice entering the silence that had fallen between them.

“What? No. Of course not,” Scorpius said, tossing Albus an apron from where he stood a few paces away. “You’re stuck with me now. I’m gonna force you to set tables with me.”

“Ew, tables?”

“Setting tables is a fine art, Albus Potter.” Scorpius declared.

“I’ll take your word for it, Scorpius – uh…”

“Malfoy.”

“Malfoy,” Albus repeated. In the back of Albus’ mind the name rang a bell, he just couldn’t quite place it at that moment in time. “I’ll take your word for it, Scorpius Malfoy.”

Scorpius grinned. “Come on.”

And then they appeared in the dining hall. The emptiness stunned Albus slightly, given that he only ever sat there when waves of members busied themselves around the tables over plates of fine food. With the French doors wide open and the ceiling fans dispensing a spray of cool air in to the room, the dining hall seemed endless. Tables were just being covered in the cloths fresh from the laundry, the scent of strawberry and linen filtering around as workers spread the material over the wood. Scorpius reappeared with a tray of cutlery, each section glimmering with spotless forks and knives of different sizes. Albus had never realised before how much cutlery sat on the table whenever he came for dinner – mainly because he used one fork for everything – but looking at them all now, winking back at him as they caught the chandelier light, he felt overwhelmed.

Scorpius ushered them to the table the Potter’s used every day, so frequently that the family name had been engraved on a small _reserved_ sign, handing Albus the tray as he began meticulously laying out all the spoons. His knuckles gently nudged his lines of work to perfect parallel positions, folding napkins in to extravagant pieces as he rounded the circumference of the table.

“Do you have to have training for this?” Albus, pathetically, asked.

Scorpius looked up from the table, face scrunching in to an endearing grimace as he shrugged. “Not really? Not like… serious training anyway. We get taught how to wait tables and how cutlery should look, but I’m a perfectionist and a nerd so I taught myself the fancy napkin work.”

“Wow,” came Albus’ response, the vocalisation of his heart bursting at that moment. Then he realised he was staring, so shook his head to bring himself back to the present. “So there are books on napkin folding?”

“You’re so silly,” Scorpius smiled, little crinkles forming by his eyes as he turned to look at Albus. “I mean, there might be? I use origami books, though. It’s basically the same, you just need to choose designs that don’t have many folds.”

Albus blushed; he suddenly found himself grateful for the stream of air conditioning in the room for without it Albus had no idea how red his cheeks would have turned. “That makes a lot more sense than my idea.”

“Sit,” Scorpius beckoned Albus to sit next to him, fingers gently patting the small space on the chair they were apparently about to share. “I’ll show you how to fold a dolphin.”

Out of nowhere Scorpius produced two clean napkins, laying them out in front of the two of them. His fingers smoothed the creases out of his napkin, skin skimming the slightly fraying edges as Scorpius explained where to fold each corner and how to flip and twist the material. Occasionally he reached over to Albus’ napkin to correct a movement or create a _more perfect_ right angled corner. Albus drifted further in to his [sweet romantic heaven](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjT4vHKsbPcAhWSbFAKHRMiB1EQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D2ssCL292DQA&usg=AOvVaw3nywpjhYoUbleLn9yCzUnK) every time Scorpius’ chill filtered over his own fingertips, their hands weaving within each other as they creased and assessed their little origami napkins. Albus didn’t want to sound cliché – which seemed ironic to him given that he had become the personification of a Romantic poet the last few days – but he felt an electrifying energy as he sat next to Scorpius. It felt _right_. How he imagined his parents felt when they met each other for the first time.

“And there we have it,” Scorpius concluded, lifting their dolphins up to stand as small centrepieces of the Potter family table. “Two dolphins.”

“They’re really cute.” Albus grinned, turning the little dolphins so they faced each other on the table.

“We should, uh,” Scorpius started, throat clearing as he briskly stood from the table and summoned the tray to his chest again. “We should finish up here before a manager comes in and docks my wage, or something.”

“They do that?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I’ve never had it happen to me, but… some co-workers have.” Scorpius shrugged, drumming his fingers over the table cloth as they departed to leave the setup in an immaculate condition. Bar the little dolphins sat in the middle of the table, Albus thought, there were no signs of them sitting there together left.

“That’s… sucky.”

Scorpius grinned. “I know,” he said. “But if it happened to me just then it would have been worth it.”

 

Dinner. Something had happened in Albus’ absence. Something so severe that either nobody noticed the bandage wrapped around Albus' wrist or they couldn't find the energy to ask what caused it. As they sat around the table, fingers idly messing with Scorpius’ perfectly laid out cutlery, something simmered in the air. A little like the sky on a late summer’s afternoon, heat beating as a thunderstorm brew along the horizon. Albus didn’t know when the downpour would come but he could see the lightning in his father’s eyes as he burned a hole through his menu.

Albus tried desperately to catch James’ sight, to plead through his eyes for an inkling of information as to what happened at the pool. It seemed as though James deliberately avoided contact, though, shutting off from all the conversation and focusing more on the bumps of his knuckles than the utterances exchanged by his family. Albus occupied himself with his glass of lemonade instead, carelessly blowing bubbles through his straw as a distraction to the tension burning around him. He occasionally looked to the dolphins in the middle of the table to take his mind back to happier time in his life, mere moments before, where he smiled and laughed without expecting someone to yell at him.

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Albus dared to ask, flinching ever so slightly as all four pairs of eyes glued immediately to him.

“It’s a free day,” Harry answered. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, careful to not leave a smudge as he leaned closer to the table. “Unless your mother has anything up her sleeve?”

Ginny shook her head, lips perusing the rim of a glass of wine. She looked intimidating, lips magnified through the curved glass and eyes peeking just over the top like a sea creature peering above the water surface to hunt out their prey. “I have nothing,” she started. “I was thinking of taking a spa day… alone.”

His mother added the last word as Harry went to speak up. Harry nodded, solemn and disinterested as he looked back to Albus. “Why do you ask, son?”

Albus shrugged, pursing his lips ever so slightly. “I just wondered whether you guys planned anything at the pool.”

 _Pool_. Clearly the trigger word as James scoffed from his seat. It sounded as if he had been waiting for an excuse to invade the conversation and speak his own mind. Anyone who knew the smallest thing about James understood that one of his favourite things was the sound of his own voice. Any time he had the opportunity to speak and flower his opinion to every single person in the room, he would.

“The pool? Do you mean sorrow and disappointment?”

“ _James._ ” Ginny intercepted, shooting her son a look of agitation from her seat.

Albus paused, dragging his lower lip between his teeth. He contemplatively chewed the already damaged skin as the family settled down in to silence again. Albus yearned for someone to come and shift the atmosphere, bring something new to the table for them all to talk about rather than continuing to mull over the negativity that seemed to follow them wherever they went.

No sanctuary appeared, though. Albus just continued, a helpless lifeboat drifting in the darkened ocean, beginning for someone to see his flares.

Needless to say Albus’ chicken curry with egg-fried rice didn’t sit well in his stomach as the waiters came to clear their plates later in the evening. Harry and James had managed to resume a somewhat normal conversation, words exchanged about the weather and other excruciatingly irrelevant topics. Albus assumed the heat had caused their minds to snap, leave them warming from the inside and fizzing as though they were moments away from exploding. There was just _something_. A small spanner in the system that caused the family to operate at half speed. While nothing seemed necessarily wrong on the exterior, problems burned and churned under the surface.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Pardon me,” Scorpius. From somewhere he had appeared, now crouched down on the floor picking up what appeared to be a dirtied napkin which had fallen. As Scorpius rose, much to Albus’ confusion as he attempted to register where the boy had come from, something dropped in to his lap. It looked like a scrunched up piece of paper, the type the waitresses used to mark down the orders for specific tables. “I just dropped something.”

Then with a smile and a definitive look at Albus he scuttled back off to the kitchen. Albus didn’t dare unfurl the piece of paper at the table, especially not with James to his one side and his dad to the other. Instead he hid it between his fingers, gently squeezing his grip every now and again to make sure it still sat there.

“It is silly how much he looks like one of my classmates at university.” Harry chuckled over his flute of champagne, the little fizzing bubbles becoming small representations of the tension between the family members.

“Who does he look like?” Albus repeated his question from the meal the other day, shifting in his seat to look directly at his father.

“We were rivals, sort of. Came from completely different calibres of life but we both wanted to do the best we could at law. He always got higher scores in class and things like that but… I’m pretty sure his parents had contacts or something.” Harry began to explain, the minute amount of alcohol in his system already dwindling his speed of speech down to perhaps twenty-five percent. Albus had learned over time that while his dad didn’t get overly emotional or sensitive with a few drinks in him, he definitely became generous with his sentences. He could begin a story about a dog crossing the street and would amount it to a feature film length script by the time the animal paws had touched the pavement.

“No offence, dad, but I really don’t care about that,” Albus interrupted. “What was his name?”

“Sorry, Al. His name’s Draco–”

“I have one Americano, one latte and three glasses of water? Instead of dessert, that is.” A waiter appeared, bearing a tray of steaming cups. They strung each cup in front of the rightful owner on the table, cutting Harry off just as he went to finish his commentary to Albus. Distracted by the ‘ _pretty milk patterns’_ on his drink, Harry switched off immediately from the conversation, instead busying himself with his overly light coffee.

Albus groaned. Alongside the groan he clutched his fingertips, reminding himself of the piece of paper stuffed between his palms. With James and his father equally overcome with interest surrounding their drinks Albus found it the perfect opportunity to read the note Scorpius had left behind. With a final overly cautious glance to his family, he gently unfolded the paper, squinting through the slight darkness to read the handwritten message.

_golf course after dinner? I’ll be at the bunker on the third hole :) – S_

 

Albus scampered away from their table the moment the glasses were taken back to the kitchen. He stuffed the note in his pocket, dragged his sleeves down to cover his fingertips and darted straight out the French doors. If the family were staying in any other resort in any other location in the world Albus doubted whether his parents would grant him as much freedom as they had done so far. Though he had a reputation for hiding and sliding away during uncomfortable public situations at home he knew that mirroring those actions in a foreign country had a lot of potential for danger. But, he thought, the family knew this place like the back of their hands. But being confided to the property, knowing the routes of the pathways and even the type of grass used to turf the scenery around the main building, allowed Albus to know a _lot_ about Ivory Falls Country Club.

So, as he sauntered over the fairways to the famous bunker on the third hole, he relished the freedom he had during the summer months. The location Scorpius had suggested they meet had a special place in Albus’ heart, a memory which sprung back to his mind as he found himself sitting on the lip of the bunker so his heels dug in to the sand below. Years ago, back to the Major Tournament where everything changed for the Potter family, Ginny had chipped out from the bunker to aid the victory which sent her straight to number one in the world, a position which she retained for months and months. The photo all the media agencies associated with the victory came from the very bunker, her face awash with sand as she hoped her ball spun to somewhere accessible on the green.

Albus thought he spent too much time living in the past. For someone who yearned for a bright future and spent his days scribing words of optimism for his later years he definitely dwelled on past events too much. Right here, minutes away from seeing someone he’d become quite fond of, he still lulled over something that happened years before. He didn’t understand why he had a small obsession with the days gone by. Perhaps, Albus thought, he just hadn’t found a reason to imagine his future. Had no source of reassurance that he could let go of the brighter times in his life as he would now have the opportunity to fill his glass even more.

“Always so deep in thought.”

Scorpius plopped himself down next to Albus, fingertips grasping a brown paper bag and two bottles of pink lemonade. In the small – incredibly small, Albus thought – space between them Scorpius lay out his small arrangement of treats, dipping his toes in to the sand as he made himself comfortable on the mound.

“I’m a writer, I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement for us to always look preoccupied,” Albus smiled, grinning deeper as they tipped their glasses of lemonade together. “You know I just ate a three course meal, right? Are you trying to fill me with sugar?” He teasingly asked.

“Obviously,” Scorpius smiled, tearing the bag open. “They’re just doughnuts. I haven’t eaten since my lunch break, so I stole these from the kitchen.”

“You didn’t get dinner?” Albus asked.

“Don’t get me wrong. I could have eaten,” Scorpius began to explain. “But I’m not a curry person. I think it’s a little too spicy. I’m not good with oriental food.” He chuckled.

Albus’ eyes automatically rolled, laughter falling from his lips as he picked up one of the doughnuts from the wrapping. “Too spicy? It was like… the least spicy curry in the world, Scorpius.”

“I know!” Scorpius reiterated, grinning through his exclamation. “I’m weak and unable to eat curry. I know I’m missing out on the great delicacies of life.”

“I guess you could say that.”

Scorpius smiled. “Anyway,” he continued. “I bet you spent your entire childhood in these sorts of places.” Scorpius illustrated his point with a flick of his shoe, sending a shower of sand trickling around the base of the bunker.

“I made many a sand castle in a bunker. Following my mum on practice rounds after it had been raining... I made some great palaces. Fit for a queen, honestly.” Albus explained, sipping on his pink lemonade. From certain angles, under the glowing stars and gentle light from the moon, the lemonade looked a little like an expensive cocktail. The reflection of the pink liquid gave him visions of his life in two years’ time, his evenings hopefully being spent in good company at a gorgeous rooftop bar as he dabbled in different types of liqueur until sun broke through the clouds.

“Sand castles used to be my mums favourite beach side activity,” added Scorpius, fingertips picking at the granules of sugar covering his doughnut. “When we lived in England we went to Devon on holiday. My grandparents had a holiday home out there, or something. And whenever we went to the beach she would always make sand castles with me. My dad would just sit in the background taking photos while we used different buckets and spades to make moats and everything like that.”

“That sounds really adorable. I’m pretty sure every family photo of me on holiday is in the same place in the suite we stay in,” Albus shrugged. In that moment he mourned his lack of ‘family’ trips, days spent adventuring on the beach, searching for crabs under rocks and giggling as a jellyfish bobbed along a pier or jetty. All of his memories resided here, in the suite, no buckets or spades or sticks of rock to show to anyone in the future. It felt foolish complaining about spending his waking days in such a wonderful location; but, Albus thought, sometimes simplicity ended up being more desirable. Albus craved a day in an arcade, feet wading through the freezing shallows of a British shore instead of afternoons hiding from the interrogative Californian sun.

“I have one of the photos on me, actually,” Scorpius’ fingers dove in to his pocket, lips pursing in mild concentration as he withdrew a folded piece of photograph paper. As he smoothed out the crease and turned the photo for Albus to see, he [_swooned_ even more](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=11&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjl0PPTsbPcAhVJYlAKHWgmDV8QwqsBCHQwCg&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DZW0DfsCzfq4&usg=AOvVaw0p2S5hcqesKpiTp9sbl-wv). Scorpius’ little fingers clutched a spade – the wrong way round – as his mother stared lovingly on from her seat on the floor. His little trunks, the colour of coral with dolphins pasted all over them, boasted stains of sea water and clumps of sand. His mother smiled and from the photo alone Albus read her beautiful soul; she radiated joy from just that one photo, with promises of care and fragility weaving in to the way she plaited her hair and wore her engagement ring around her neck on a chain. Underneath the one necklace she wore another, an initial of some sort, the detailing of which Albus couldn’t tell from where the sun produced a reflection. If Albus squinted he deciphered an O, or perhaps a D or Q. That detail seemed irrelevant in the crowd of such joy and happiness, though, and Albus knew instantly why Scorpius cherished the photo so much. “It’s been almost fourteen years since this photo was taken.”

“Fourteen? How old were you?” Albus asked.

“I was two in this photo. My dad took the exact same one every year. This is the only one he’d let me take, though,” Scorpius explained, throat clearing at the end of his sentence. “He’s very… delicate about her belongings. It’s been three years but he’s still very protective. He doesn’t like letting things to do with her leave his sight. I had to swear on everything that I wouldn’t lose it.”

“Grief does that.” Came Albus’ simple reply.

Scorpius only nodded, a solemn symbol of his agreement. “I know.”

“Two slightly broken kids talking about their shit with each other. Every school counsellor’s dream.” Albus joked. He felt a cloud of dismay summoning over them and, as much as he enjoyed delving in to deep conversations with Scorpius, he truly had other intentions with their evening. In the manuscript of their love story unravelling in his mind they didn’t spend their evenings mulling over grief and sadness. They spent the starry nights laughing as throwing indirect compliments back and forth as they realised day by day that they were a perfect fit. With every utterance would come a connection between the two until it became crystal clear that they were two perfect halves of a whole.

It worked. Scorpius smiled. “I hate my school counsellor. Her office stinks of, like, cinnamon and sweat. Mainly because of the students. And to mask it she sprays this honey and mint scented perfume everywhere. Honestly, Al, it is a _mess_.”

Al.

He repeated the nickname in his mind multiple times. Everyone called him Al and, truthfully, he had never been particularly fond of it. However coming from Scorpius, with his lush accent and exaggeration on A _l_ , Albus suddenly didn’t mind the diminutive.

“Mine was a man, which… is sort of worse.” Albus sighed.

“Was?”

“He got fired,” Albus explained, relishing in the shock that spread over Scorpius’ face. “He was always a bit creepy, I guess. Typical weird teacher trying to get too close with the kids. Think Mr Schue from _Glee_ but with some not-safe-for-work actions in there. He didn’t last very long when someone caught on to him.”

“Damn,” Scorpius said, releasing an extreme whistle before breaking his doughnut in to a few smaller pieces. “Typical England, right?”

“Do you ever miss it? London, that is.” Albus inquired. By now Albus had inclined his body entirely to face Scorpius, legs crossed and back arched so he could take in every single noise and movement Scorpius made.

Scorpius turned the question over in his mind. He seemed transparent in that moment, as if he wanted Albus to read every inch of his mind and watch with intense curiosity as he considered his views of both places he had resided. “I wouldn’t go back. I miss the life I had there, because I had my whole family. But going back is something that would hurt more, I think. I miss the concept of London and my experiences, but I know it wouldn’t be the same. If that makes sense?”

“That sounds like something straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel. And, trust me, I’ve read them all.”

Scorpius lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a good thing?”

“The best.”

 

Albus pocketed the bottle cap from the glass of pink lemonade Scorpius brought him as he left the golf course and he knew he had fallen deep. He kept dipping his fingertips in to his pocket, brushing the pad over the scalloped edge just to make sure the cap hadn’t fallen out. It felt like a token of the evening he needed to treasure, something to bring with him everywhere so he had good luck. Albus felt giddy on air, the freshness from the evening flooding his senses as he walked back to the suite amidst dulcet tones of jazz following him from the dining room. Glasses clinked together and laughter oozed out the archway as Albus crossed through the reception, ears clinging on to the final sounds of the summer evening before stepping in to the elevator.

Saying goodbye that evening had a different tone to it. Before they’d exchanged words doused with uncertainty as to whether they’d have time alone ever again, time to grow this unusual and unconventional friendship that had blossomed. Every single time Albus trundled off to join his family again he hadn’t a clue whether he would engage with Scorpius on the same level of sentiment again. However that time, the words enveloped with sincerity and joy, Albus knew he’d be in for an evening of delight again. The moment felt more like a _see you later_ than a _goodbye_.

And as two people who both had experiences of the latter statement, Albus welcomed the change of tone like a wave of fresh sea water.

His happiness [stalled momentarily](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwi2mfPYsbPcAhXFKlAKHa3oClcQyCkIKjAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DBsKbwR7WXN4&usg=AOvVaw37x0xX8gP2gDarmJS5ktJo) as Albus approached the suite, though. As he fumbled with the lock and gently pushed the door open – as to not wake anyone – the quiet murmurs of television juxtaposed some harsher voices as Albus stepped in to the suite. Among darkness, curtains closed and lights off, Albus’ parents sat illuminated only by the flickering light from the screen before them.

They sat curled on the couch, two individual blankets pulled over them as they lounged. Despite sitting within a metre of each other Albus could tell they were miles apart, so distant in their thoughts that it would be unlikely that they registered the presence of someone else in the room. From where Albus stood, hidden by a door and shadowed by lack of light, he knew he hadn’t been detected. As his mother looked sadly to his father he knew he had snuck in, but he didn’t dare tell them he had arrived. Whether they were awake solely to wait for Albus or for more sinister reasons, he felt wrong interrupting this intense standoff they had developed.

“We need to talk about what happened, Ginny,” Harry, presumably, continued their conversation. He had rotated ever so slightly to look as his wife, an essence of hesitation colouring his utterance. “At the pool. With James.”

“It’s just James being James, love,” Ginny sighed. “He likes to know everything and when he feels left out he gets… agitated.”

“But there’s agitated and then there’s causing a scene.” Harry murmured.

“He didn’t cause a scene.”

Harry chuckled. “Really? He stood up in the middle of the space and called me a dirty human being. That’s not causing a scene?”

“You have to look at this from his point of view, Harry,” explained Ginny. Her fingertips fiddled with the hem of her blanket, the ribbon outlining the cover gliding over her knuckles as she looked to her husband. “He’s nineteen. He’s used to being treated like an adult, because he is one. He knows everything about the family business. For him to not know something, more importantly having something kept from him… it’s a lot.”

“But surely he’d understand that there’s a reason I have to keep it from him,” Harry theorised. His fingers massaged his temples, glasses falling down his nose as he scrunched his eyes shut and allowed a deep exhale to rattle through his body. “I don’t just keep things from people unless I have a reason.”

“You don’t really have a reason, though… not a good one.” Ginny muttered.

“Pardon?”

“The only reason you aren’t telling people is because it could ruin your career. It’s going to come out eventually, love. You’re defending this case in court, people are going to know. Why are you hiding it? More importantly… why are you taking it?” Ginny asked. Her eyes turned to a shade of desperation, almost pleading for her husband to connect with her again and explain his thoughts. Albus stood confused, hidden in the darkness without an inkling of knowledge on what had happened.

“Because the boy needs someone to defend him.”

“And the girl?” Ginny countered, exasperated.

Harry paused. “I haven’t been asked to support the girl, though.”

“What if it were Lily, love? Just… please think about this. This isn’t just going to have an effect on those people in the court room. It’ll bother our kids, our family. Your reputation and career. Your children will go to school or work or whatever and they’ll go through hell,” Ginny rumbled out, words falling from her lips faster than Albus had ever seen. His mother usually held herself as the image of elegance and control, having poise in her every word. Everything she said seemed necessary and well thought through, never a sentence or word out of place. But now, eyes shining with a layer of tears and lips begging for reason from Harry, she seemed at a loss. “You don’t need to take this case. You don’t need to get involved with this. People beg you to defend them… why are you so determined to do this?”

“You won’t understand, Gin.”

“No surprise there. I’m not a lawyer so I don’t know anything. Not like my husband and my whole family have spent their lives dabbling with politics and the law. You need to separate work from home. You need to think, Harry.” Ginny argued.

“I do separate home from work.”

“I don’t want to bicker again, Harry,” Albus heard his mother stand up. The television died, light fading and his parents voices becoming the only indicator as to where they stood in the room. “Just look at us right now. You haven’t even started on the case and it’s pulling the family apart. It’s making other lawyers look at you like a fraud.”

“I love you.” Harry responded.

Albus heard his mum pause. He imagined her smile in the darkness, hesitant and tired yet still meaningful. “I love you. I’m going to bed. Come when you’re ready.”

Albus took that as his cue to enter; he reopened and closed the front door with audible volume, a sound clearly detected as his dad switched on a table lamp and peered over to the entrance with curiosity. As Albus stepped in to the pool of light he smiled at his dad, a sentiment reciprocated as Harry beamed back at him. If Albus hadn’t witnessed the small argument between his parents moments before he wouldn’t have been able to guess that anything was wrong. Which, Albus thought, had to be a skill his dad developed through years in the law industry. Retaining a neutral expression and hiding any inkling of his thoughts from a court of piranhas had to be an assignment he’d done at some point.

“Hey, Al.” Harry smiled. He stood with exaggerated movements, arms stretching above his head as he popped out some air bubbles.

“Evening, dad. Sorry I’m so late coming back.” Albus lied. He wasn’t sorry, not really. He’d rather go back to where he’d been, chatting aimlessly to the person brightening his recently dismal days, than standing here putting up a façade that everything in their lives remained perfect.

“Don’t apologise. Your mother was awake but she just went to bed. We trust you… I trust you,” Harry corrected, smiling as he readjusted his glasses. “I’m off now, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Cool, yeah,” Albus coughed. “See you in the morning. Sleep well.”

“Love you, Al.” With that sentence and a kiss to the forehead, Harry whisked himself off to the master bedroom of the suite.

Alone with his thoughts and the memories of the last few hours of his life, Albus came to one firm conclusion that evening: he definitely only liked when Scorpius called him Al.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: scorpiusmlafoy
> 
> NOTE* as of 19/08/18 this fic is discontinued and will not be updated again *NOTE*


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